


Goldilocks And The Spirit of Christmas

by Amateurhuman



Series: Life is Strange: London Calling [1]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: 1979, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, London, no powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22832155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amateurhuman/pseuds/Amateurhuman
Summary: Three years before Five Girls In A Flat, Victoria Chase arrives in London to study Economics. She hopes to start a new life with new friends. Things don't go as planned.
Relationships: unclear - Relationship
Series: Life is Strange: London Calling [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597909
Comments: 50
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silent_1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_1/gifts).



> A huge thanks to Silent_1 for beta reading and feedback!

It was the last week before Christmas of December 1979, and it was indeed a time to rejoice. Last weekend a cold wind had blown in from the North Sea, and with it had come a surprise showering of snow that now covered even the southernmost parts of the British isles in a thick white blanket. The city of London, draped in its gaudiest Christmas garment, bristled with life and commotion as people tried to get ready for the celebrations. They plodded hither and thither across poorly shovelled pavement under shimmering street decorations, thickly dressed in coats and hats, and overloaded with myriads of boxes and bags. 

Victoria and her three friends had skipped the lectures at uni for once and instead had had a fabulous day out and were now on their way home in the early night. They would soon be on their way to their respective families over Christmas, so they took the chance to enjoy the yuletide festivities together before that. They had been shopping among the luxurious stores around Covent Garden, then watched the musical ‘Chicago’ at the Cambridge theatre. Lastly they had eaten a late dinner at Rule’s. This was Victoria’s first Christmas in London, as she had arrived in the UK to study just a couple of months ago. So far she really liked London, and the last couple of days had been full of holiday spirit, with all the snow and Christmassy gimcrack in storefronts and streets. She and the other girls at her dorm had decorated the common areas of their living quarters with a bonhomie that made Victoria’s heart warm, until it was more glitter and lights than walls and windows, and with a nice tree in the sitting room. For the first time in many years, Victoria felt happy about Christmas.

The night was bitter and dark when Victoria, Marc, Peter and Alyssa, her three closest friends from uni, tottered along the street in search for a cab, but the four friends felt high spirited and warm inside. Still, the cold was nipping at their cheeks and noses, and the wind was chilly, especially for the girls who were only wearing thin cocktail dresses and pumps under their coats.

“I can’t believe you left that huge tip to the waiter,” Alyssa said to Marc, who she held tightly around the arm. They were a couple since a few weeks back. 

“Do you really think the service was worth that much?”

“Well,” Marc answered with a grin, “Not at all, but you never tip out of the kindness of your heart anyway. At least I don’t.”

“Yeah,” Said Peter. He and Victoria were mere friends, so they walked side by side with a bit of a distance between them. “Me neither.”

“So?” Alyssa laughed and pushed Marc in the side. “Why do you do it, then? It’s not some kind of rich boy’s secret, is it?”

“No, it’s quite simple,” Marc answered with his signature crooked smile that probably had broken many a girl’s heart, “You tip because you want something, and as with everything else; you get what you pay for.”

Victoria had heard versions of this speech, about tigers and lambs or monkeys and lions or whatever, from her father many times before, but Alyssa apparently hadn’t, and she looked admiringly up at her boyfriend. Or maybe she was just a good actress. Victoria’s dad had a knack for making the most foppish majordomo bend over backwards just by shifting an eyebrow, but from what she had observed today Marc had a long way to go. Victoria hoped Alyssa was just acting.

“So, what am I buying with my tip?” Marc continued.

Alyssa shrugged.

“Don’t ask me.” 

“It was a rhetorical question, dear,” Marc said, “You pony up if you want to be remembered and get the attention you deserve next time, or maybe you want to impress your friends or colleagues. Or maybe you want to impress the waitress if she’s cute enough. First time she’ll remember you, next time she’ll be extra attentive and charming, and the third time she’s ripe for the plucking.”

He shrugged and glanced at Alyssa.

“So to speak.”

“I had no idea old moustachioed fellas in cravat and white gloves were your style, Marc.” Victoria said, “I guess you can still surprise.”

Peter burst out laughing, but choked on it after a look from his friend.

“Such a witty girl, Vickie.” Marc muttered, “Too witty for your own good.”

Victoria shook her head so the tussle of the ridiculous Santa’s hat she was wearing swung over from one shoulder to the other.

“You can never be too rich or too thin,” She said, cocking an eyebrow, “Or too witty. You can quote me on that.”

Alyssa giggled.

“Truth!” 

The boys just looked at each other and sighed.

Around them a magical glitter of snowflakes began to swirl about in the lamp light as they walked along the street, sometimes landing on their collars or melting on their faces. It was a beautiful night.

They walked by a small fish and chips-store that was still open. Festive red and green lights blinked in the windows. 

“Hey,” Peter said “Can I go grab something here? I’m hungry.”

The oily smell of frying fish potato chips oozed from the door.

Marc sighed.

“We just ate, man, but all right. I can’t believe you are so thin, the way you are stuffing yourself.”

“I’ve got good genes,” Peter said as they entered the store to the sound of a small bell ringing.

Victoria was about to follow them inside to get a bit of warmth when Alyssa grabbed her arm and stopped her.

“I met Dana the other day. Do you know she’s going back to New York for good?”

“Uh-huh? I didn’t.”

“Aren’t you two friends?”

“Yeah, kinda, we have ended up on the same flights to and from home a couple of times. I guess I’ll have to go by myself from now on then.”

“She said she would fly home before the weekend. Are you going back to the states for Christmas too?”

“No I’m not. My parents are in Kenya over the holidays. But I don’t care much for skulking around in the bush to shoot animals. Dad has never managed kill an elephant yet, so that’s why they’re there. Last chance before he turns fifty.”

Victoria made a grimace to show what a silly Christmas present that was. Truthfully, after the last dreadful thanksgiving back in New York, Victoria had decided to take a pause from her family. Indefinitely. 

“But you could be with Nathan and his family?” Alyssa continued, “Wouldn’t that be romantic? You and Nathan alone at Bemelmans on Christmas eve. Who knows what could happen after that…”

Alyssa wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Victoria said, “But it won’t happen for several reasons. One, we’re not old enough to get in, New York isn’t like London, and two, Nate would never be able to get away from his folks over Christmas, they are all super obsessive over family. And let me tell you something else; I can’t stand his father. He is _such_ an _asshole_.”

“Vickie!” Alyssa laughed, “You can’t talk like that! It makes you sound like a fallen lady, or worse.”

“Well, he is a fucking arse.” 

“Oh no, you did it again.”

Alyssa grabbed a fist of freshly fallen snow. 

“Now I’ll have to wash your mouth with this!”

Alyssa tried her best to mash the snow into Victoria’s face, but she stood no chance against Victoria, who was at least six inches taller and a lot stronger than her. But she fought well. Giggling, Alyssa ended up close.

Victoria didn’t particularly like Alyssa. She was too needy, and too worried what others would think of her, which was perfect if you wanted to get chewed up by this harsh world, else it was not. Oh, And her name was pretentious in all the wrong ways. Also, she was sadly blind for that she was just the latest in a long row of Marc’s girlfriends, and not a marrying prospect, for many reasons. Victoria always had problems with people who couldn’t spot reality even if it was written on their noses. But having Alyssa this close; it didn’t feel as wrong as it might have done. Victoria’s heart made an extra beat when Alyssa leaned in closer, eyes glinting. Her breath burned on Victoria’s cheek. 

“I think Peter has a thing for you,” Alyssa whispered and winked conspiratorially. “If you want to jump the shackles, that is.”

“No way,” Victoria said. “We are just friends.” 

Then she stared down at Alyssa with a frown.

“Really?”

“Truth. And he’s also very well off.”

“Not like the Prescotts, for sure.”

“No, but well enough. His family owns an airline and several resort hotels. You could travel wherever you wanted whenever you wanted for the rest of your life. Think about it.”

Victoria was just about to give a sarcastic retort about Peter’s family’s probably meagre money compared to her own banker family’s billions when she was interrupted by a laugh. 

“Who-ho-ho, what is this? A bit of girl-on-girl action?”

The girls let go of each other. Marc and Peter came out from the little shop. Peter had his face buried in his fish and chips that he carried in a greasy newspaper, while Marc sauntered out after him with a bored expression on his face.

“No, please continue,” He said, “Don’t mind us, we want to see where this leads.”

Victoria crossed her arms in front of her.

“You’re a very funny young man, Marc.”

“We were just talking.” Alyssa said.

“Sure you were.”

Alyssa threw the snow she still had in her hand at Marc, but it was too cold for the snow to stick, instead it ended up as a spray of silver that he dodged easily.

Standing still had chilled Victoria, and now a cold wind started to sweep through the streets. Cold air hit Victoria and soon its icy fingers had found its way under her coat and right up through the short kimono style silk dress she wore underneath. Her head and hands were warm though, which made it more bearable. The oversized Santa’s hat she had bought in a store for fun earlier today, and also to protect her long and newly permed hair from the falling snow, protected her head surprisingly well, and her favourite leather gloves, though old and worn, were very soft and sufficiently chic. 

“Well, this place is dead.” Marc muttered, “We will have better luck grabbing a hackney out on Bedford street.”

They turned a corner and came upon a pale girl about their own age, her arms clinging to her body to protect against the cold. Her long blond hair was unkempt and grimy, and she was dressed in a mishmash of what looked more like dirty rags than proper clothes, especially for a cold night like this. Her old trainers were stuffed with strips newspaper to keep out the cold and cover the many rips and holes in them.

Marc turned to Peter with a grin on his handsome face.

“I spy… a magnifique fille de joie!” 

“What?” Peter said and looked up from his fish and chips that must be close to finished by now. 

“I see her!” He said, grinning back. “Do you really think she’s soliciting?”

“That was a joke, dude.” Marc scoffed. “Look at her; I wouldn’t touch her with my elbow. Even less with other body parts. Let’s go find a taxi before curfew kicks in shall we? I already got my fair share of warnings.”

Students living at the Swankton Butte student housing under the age of twenty had to be home before ten o’clock, even during weekends, but it was all too easy to get a warning. Even Victoria already had one for staying out too late, and she had only been living there for four months.

As they passed by the scrawny girl on their way to Bedford street, she took a step towards them, with shoulder hunched against the cold.

“Excuse me, sir,” the girl stuttered, “d’you’ve any spare change?”

“No, regrettable I have not.” Marc said without looking at her.

The girl reached for Alyssa. “You then, miss? Please?”

Alyssa involuntarily took a step backwards and shook her head while staring at the filthy girl. The disdain was clear on her face. “Uh, no?” 

The girl didn’t give up, with unbending optimism she turned to Peter.

“Hi mate, maybe you–?”

“I am sorry,” he answered with a shrug, “just got enough money for the Taxi and its too bloody cold to walk home tonight.”

Victoria noticed how the girl’s eyes were drawn like magnets to Peter’s almost finished roll of fish and chips. Peter noticed it too. He gave Marc a quick glance, then he turned back to the girl.

“Hungry?” Peter said and gestured with the paper roll towards her. Ashamed, the girl looked away, but Peter took a step towards her and held out the paper with the leftovers.

“You can have it if you want.”

The girl looked back. 

“Can… can I?” 

“Sure, I was done anyway.” He gestured with the paper roll. “Here.” 

She released her hands from under her armpits where she had kept them warm and reached for the leftovers. When she was about to grab it, Peter held it out of her reach.

“I only want half a quid for it,” he said with a smirk. That was probably nearly the full selling price.

The girl stared at him, then she started to search through her pockets. Her hand came up with some small coins that she counted through, then she searched her pockets once more, but this time came up empty. The girl looked up with a disappointed face. 

“I… I only have eleven pennies,” She said, her voice trembling with cold. She held up the hand with a few brass coins, her eyes pleading. “You don’t think I can have it for eleven p?”

Peter pursed his lips and hummed and hawed theatrically, which made both Marc and Alyssa giggle quietly in the background.

“I guess you could.” He said at last , “It’s Christmas after all, isn’t it?” 

Carefully, he picked the three small coins out of her shivering hand, then gave her the newspaper with leftovers, almost. Just before she was about to take it from his hand, he turned it, letting the last bit of half eaten fish flop down on the pavement, accompanied by a rain of cold fries and dollops of mushy peas. It splattered around in the dirty snow around her feet.

“Oh no, how clumsy of me.” He said with feigned remorse, “I am _really_ sorry.”

A smothered snort of laughter was heard from Marc while the girl, with a low cry, sat down on all fours and started picking up pieces of food from the dirt, and with trembling fingers began cramming them into her mouth as fast as she could. 

The four of them stood watching the girl, fascinated by how she searched around with bare hands in the brown-speckled snow to find and pick up the last scraps, while snow flakes swirled around them, glittering like fairy dust in the lamp light. Their breaths were like white mist in the beautiful advent night. Peter chuckled.

“What a bum,” He said, “She’s eating right out of the gutter. I really didn’t hink she would.”

“Yeah,” Marc said, “She looks like something straight out of a Dickens novel.”

“More like a dog,” Muttered Victoria, sensing a slight nausea spreading in her gut.

Peter laughed. “You hit the nail there, Vickie. A dog.”

Marc joined in the laughter.

“It’s really not that funny,” Victoria said, looking around her friends faces. They still stood staring at the girl down on her knees. 

Alyssa nodded absently. 

“I agree, I think it’s sad. I mean, I can’t believe she’s actually begging rather than getting a job. Why not just die rather than be so unambitious?”

“Exactly.” Marc said and gave Alyssa a squeeze, “Die and decrease the surplus population, I say. Would be better for everyone.”

Home in New York there were lots of homeless people and beggars, and Victoria had since an early age learnt to not see them whenever she happened to walk by one, which was rare. At first she had had a hard time understanding why it was okay to go and feed the swans and ducks in Central Park, but not the humans. Her parents and various nannies never gave her a satisfying answer, but eventually she learned that life was every man and woman for themselves, and every kind act was a weakness that could be exploited by others to get the upper hand, and the more money you had, the more important it was to always be on your guard. And Victoria’s family, even if she didn’t understand it at first, was very rich. That didn’t hinder her and Lizzie to dream about running away from home together and live like tramps, train hopping around the states and have adventures and meet exiting people at the fringe of society. Or maybe to get lost and end up with a strange family with lots of children, poor in possessions but rich in love, like in that old Shirley Temple movie the had watched at the dorm just the other day. Elizabeth had looked a lot like Shirley Temple when she was a child, with her pretty face, wholesome character and with blonde ringlets to boot, _authentic_ ringlets. Everyone had said so. Victoria herself had had more likeness to the Michelin man. Victoria had went back to her room halfway through, it had brought back too many painful memories from long ago. And luckily she and Lizzie never made reality of their plans. The real world had no mercy for foolish young girls. 

When Victoria grew older she stopped to give the homeless and beggars much thought because they lived in such different worlds, and her own, admittedly petty problems in comparison, took up all of her time. But it was something about this girl that made it hard to ignore her. Maybe because they were the same age, and both were blonde and tall with light eyes. Maybe this could’ve been her if she and Lizzie really had run away from home when they were children. Maybe that was what ate her, but probably not. Whatever it was, this situation gave her the creeps. While the others seemed to relish in the homeless girl’s undignified misery, Victoria just wanted to get away from here.

“Come on,” She said and grabbed Alyssa and Peter by their arms, “let’s go get that cab now, shall we? I’m chilled to the bone.”

They began ambling along the street. The beautiful winter’s night didn’t feel as beautiful anymore, and Victorias cheery holiday spirit was as blown away. Marc caught up to her and the others and patted her back.

“Hey, Vickie, don’t be such a bore,” He said “It’s that bum’s choice to be where she is, so we have all the right to laugh at her if we want, right? If you act like a monkey, you’ll have to accept getting laughed at. And it’s not like giving her any money would help her in the long run, you know that.”

“Yes, it would be counterproductive,” Peter filled in, “it would only reinforce that bad behaviour.”

“Exactly,” Marc said, “It’s a simple question of supply and demand. You should read Ayn Rand–” 

Victoria scoffed. She had practically been forced by her friends at school to read Rand and had hated every last boring and badly written bit of it. In pure defiance she turned abruptly and walked up to the girl who still sat down in the snow, still searching for the last scraps of food in the sludge.

The others gave out exclamations of surprise, but Victoria just opened her purse and dug out all the money she had left after tonight. It was not much, just a pair of notes and a small stack of coins. In thought she jangled them in her hand a couple of times before handing them down to the girl. 

“Here, have this.”

The girl stared at her hand, then looked up with a suspicious face while wiping her mouth with a threadbare coat arm.

“Are… are you sure?”

“I can spare it, don’t worry.” Victoria said with a smirk, then immediately regretted it, feeling like an ass. The girl didn’t seem to notice though, instead she stood up and grabbed the money with stiff fingers, and whispered a quiet “thank you.”

This close, Victoria saw that the girl was almost her own height, and they both had bluish eyes and long blonde hair, though under all that grime and dirt the homeless girl was actually beautiful, with delicate features, a long straight nose and lively blue wide-set eyes, while Victoria herself were much more average-looking, though she did her best to hide that fact with makeup, expensive trinkets and stylish clothes. Her long blonde hair was the one thing she was proud of, ‘her one beauty’ as her mother often said. This girl had everything. Victoria couldn’t help but wonder what series of unfortunate events had brought her to the situation she was in now. She guessed it was a long and sad story. Whatever the others said, she couldn’t believe it was by choice only.

Their eyes met briefly, searchingly, then the girl glanced up at Victoria’s Santa’s hat.

“I must confess I haven’t believed in Santa for a long time.”

Victoria reached up and touched the white tussle.

“Oh,” she mumbled, still in thought.” Merry Christmas.”

The girl smiled.

“Thank you, and good wishes to your friends and family too.”

She gave a slight bow. Victoria couldn’t help but return the smile, but then forced it away. There was an awkward silence when neither of them moved, but instead stood looking at each other.

“It’s really cold tonight,” Victoria said at last, to have something to say. Why was she even trying to make conversation? She felt pathetic talking about the weather, but it would’ve felt even worse to just chuck the money in the girl’s hand and leave.

“Don’t you have anywhere to go?”

The smile on the girls face disappeared.

“No, miss, the shelters are all full on nights like this. But I’ll find somewhere to kip, don’t worry.” She raised her fist. “This will save my hide tonight, and the next fortnight. Thank you so much.”

“Sure, and take care,” Victoria said, though she felt in her bones how hollow the phrase sounded. But, she had done what she could, now she just longed to get back to her room and fill up a nice hot bath to warm herself up and forget all about this strange girl and the unease she brought. Victoria gave her a curt nod and left.

“How much did you give her? Peter asked when she came back.

Victoria frowned.

“Why do you care?”

Peter glared at her.

“Don’t be such a prat and just tell me.”

“I gave her everything I had.” 

Peter stared at her and his mouth opened and closed like a fish on land. After a couple of seconds of sputtering, Marc came to the rescue.

“Everything? “ He said, “Why? Didn’t we just tell you giving money to bums is a bad idea? Now she’ll just buy booze or drugs or whatever, you do realise that, don’t you?”

“I can do whatever I like with my own money, thank you for reminding me,” Victoria answered, “Besides, it was just ten pounds.”

What was left after all those Harvey Wallbangers she had had at the fancy salons back at Rule’s restaurant.

“Fine, suit yourself,” Marc said, “But I can’t see how you will be able to pay for the ride home without money.”

Victoria gave him a stare. 

“But we are sharing a cab?”

Marc stared back.

“No, not if you can’t pay.”

“Yeah, no piggybacking.” Peter added, “We’re not commies, _miss_.”

Victoria looked around.

“Are you guys serious? Just loan me what’s needed. I’ll pay you back when we get home. It’s not like I’m short on cash.”

“Nu-uh,” Marc said, “You go and get that money back, or else you’re walking home tonight.”

Victoria gave him a cold smile.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” Marc answered. Two rosy dots had appeared on his cheeks, “And trust me, I can be just as pigheadedly stubborn as you.”

“Oh, come on, guys.” Victoria said, “Alyssa?”

Alyssa gave her an unhappy look, but before she could say anything, Marc shoved her aside with one hand, while jabbing a finger at Victoria with the other.

“No, she won’t help you either. This is a thing of principle.”

It was a lengthy walk home to the student houses at Swankton Butte, and hour on foot at least. She wasn’t even sure of the way. And it was bitter cold. And, she wasn’t dressed for walking, at all. And also, she already had been given a warning for getting home after curfew. With a second warning she would be one step closer to risk being thrown out. Expensive as Swankton was, it was also undisputedly the best and most classy student housing in London.

“Fuck it.” Victoria grumbled and turned back to where the girl was still standing. The others followed her, one on either side like a pair of prison guards, except Alyssa who trailed behind with a miserable expression. Apparently the bum girl had heard their conversation, because she held up the money to Victoria when they came closer. Still, Marc and Peter went and stood towering around the girl as if to catch her if she would try to make a run for it.

“I’m sorry, miss–” the girl began.

“Is that everything?” Marc interjected in a harsh voice, but the girl didn’t even give him a look, instead she whispered in a quick, pleading voice to Victoria. Her jumbled words came out so quickly they threatened to trip over themselves. 

“ _Can I please keep twenty p it would mean a lot miss I could sneak into the public loos at St:Pancras and maybe stay the night there if I could_ just _have the entrance fee–._ “

“She wants _all_ her money back.” Peter growled, “Now.”

Anger flared up inside Victoria. Who the hell where Marc or Peter to tell her what she wanted to or could do with her own money? Furiously she ripped off her Santa’s hat and gloves and mashed them into the girl’s arms. 

“Take these, you need them way more than I do. And keep the god damned money. I gave them to you, they are yours.”

The girl gave her a big-eyed look before she nodded and hastily absconded the scene, probably to get away before Victoria changed her mind, or her friends intervened. But the others didn’t move; they stood in dumbstruck silence as the girl disappeared around the corner, until Marc muttered in a seething singsong voice. 

“Someone’s walking home tonight.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost midnight when Victoria, cold as an icicle, finally made it back to the Georgian-style Swankton Butte student house. It looked more like small castle than a house, with two main wings containing apartments and common areas, the left for boys and the right for girls, and two smaller ones where the staff had their offices, storages, garages and workshops. Over everything throned a fat square clock-tower with a tall flag pole that disappeared up in the dark night sky, that made the complex look like a sprawling castle instead of a housing complex. 

Victoria’s tipsiness was long gone as she trudged over the yard between large hills of plowed up snow, and with every step a spike of pain shot up from her blistered feet. It was lucky she was so cold because that ought to numb the pain somewhat. The large wooden door at the student housing was locked, so she had to ring the bell to get in. After some pulling on the small brass contraption, the lamps in the hall lit up, and when the door lady, Mrs Moore, finally came down, Victoria was jumping up and down. The concierge gave her an evil eye through the door’s little square glass window for coming home this late, but she unlocked and opened, albeit during a verbiage of reprimands. Ignoring the woman’s bickering, Victoria took off her pumps with a sigh of relief and, with the shoes in her hands, stomped up the two flights of pompous marble stairs in her socks towards her student apartment. She grabbed her icy cold keys in trembling hands and, after some frantic tries, managed to unlock the door. With a contorted grimace and a rising wail, she rushed into her small hall, threw down her shoes and continued right to the bathroom. She shot out her hand and the toilet lid crashed open with a bang that must have echoed through the whole building, then she quickly pulled down her pantyhose and knickers and sat down in the darkness with a loud moan as she began to pee; she hadn’t even had time to turn the light on. Damn, that had been too close for comfort.

Except for the last painful part when all the drinks she had had during the evening made themselves known with a vengeance, it had been a long boring trip home from downtown London, and her feet had become woefully chafed by her new pumps. But she didn’t regret it one bit. Well, except for the last fifteen minutes of agony, maybe there had also been times during the cold nightly walk home when she had cursed herself, shivering with cold and trying to get some blood into her cold hands, where she had questioned her decision and also her sanity. But then she reminded herself that this must be every day reality for that homeless girl and many more like her in the absolute bottom of the pile. And where the hell did they pee when they didn’t have the entrance fee? And now, when she finally closed the door to her student apartment after her and had thrown herself down on her big cozy bed and rolled her in its thick blankets, it had been totally worth it. What was nine pounds eighty compared to the looks on Marc and Peter’s faces when she let that homeless girl keep the money? The memory made her snicker in delight. Definitely money well spent. She would miss those gloves though. They were hand sewn from Ethiopian sheep’s leather that fit like a second skin but still kept her fingers warm and had probably been crazy expensive. But that was not why she missed them. They had been a gift from her younger sister Elizabeth when they were still talking to each other. Victoria sighed. What was done was done and no point shedding tears for.

She fell asleep in the bed with her clothes on.

* * *

In class the morning after, Wednesday the week before Christmas, everyone seemed to know what had happened the day before, and no-one seemed impressed by her good deed, despite it being the season of giving and all. Instead she heard sniggering and whispers behind her back, especially when she limped around between lectures on her well-swathed feet. ‘Saint Victoria’ she heard several of her classmates call her. Alyssa gave her some worried looks but didn’t dare to come forward and speak to her. Even though they sat together in class the whole day, she didn’t utter a single word to her. Victoria didn’t care. She had never had many friends to begin with, not real friends, and had never relied on them for success or the feeling of belonging or self-worth. But it felt strange. In college back in New York, she had always been at the center of everything; elected school president every single year, the best in her swimming class for as long as she could remember, and the queen bee that every girl in school either feared or admired, or, in best cases, both. But here she was just another rich kid among other rich kids and no-one seemed to give a fuck about her. To be fair, that was why she had come here in the first place; to begin again, to get new friends where the old ways, old constrains and old habits weren’t present. To not always have to watch your back and be all mama bitch all the time, but to have friendships and relationships in a more relaxed and mature way. That was what she had hoped for, but things hadn’t worked out like she had planned at all. Well, it was only the end of the first term, and things could change. But one thing was certain; the winter break couldn’t arrive soon enough. 

The day dragged on. Marc was still angry and pretended not to see her, and Peter barely said hi. The last test before the break was in trade economics, something Victoria would need to prepare for, so it was just as good she had to be all by herself these next couple of days. Right now she missed her old henchmen Taylor and Courtney to help her out with the studying, though she suspected they didn’t miss her as much. Victoria had never realised how much help she had gotten from them until she had moved over here and had to do everything by herself.

Victoria went back to the apartment alone, ate dinner alone, and sat and studied at her desk alone, when a careful knock sounded at her door. Victoria felt a small jolt in her chest as she put down her pencil. Could it be Alyssa who came by after all? Maybe to apologise for being such a turd the whole day? She lived just two doors down in the corridor and often dropped in for a chat now and then. Victoria rose, cleared her throat, adjusted her pony tail, smoothed out her blouse and skirt and donned her best friendly smile before she turned the handle to her door.

“Hey–” She began.

It was not Alyssa, instead a limber girl from the first floor stood there, chest heaving as if she had been running. 

“Victoria Chase?” She asked out of breath.

Victoria gave her an undeservedly sour look before answering. 

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“There’s a girl downstairs, but Mrs Moore won’t let her in. She said she wanted to speak to you.”

Victoria stared back with a scrunched brow. 

“Who wanted to speak to me, did you say?”

“The girl I meant, sorry,” The first floor girl huffed, “She seemed weird, though. Should I say you weren’t home?”

A weird girl at the door who wanted to talk to her? What the hell was this about? Anyhow, at this point anything that could keep her from studying for the test was welcome. Victoria stuck her feet in her tartan slippers and widened the door.

“No. No, I’m coming.”

-

The concierge stood, arms crossed, and gave her a loathing stare when Victoria came down the steps to the main hall. It seemed like her reputation had improved little since yesterday then.

“Where’s my visitor?” Victoria asked in a lofty voice, and Mrs Moore nodded towards the front door. 

“Outside, and there she stays.” 

A small gathering of girls stood watching it all. Victoria ignored them as she walked past the group and out in the snowy afternoon. The wind outside was freezing cold, and she regretted not taking real shoes and her coat, or at least a hat.

A tall girl clad in old baggy clothes and an oversized Santa’s hat stood leaning against one of the lamp post just out in the yard door. Victoria couldn’t believe her eyes; the fucking homeless bum from yesterday. What the hell was she doing here? Victoria felt a bit creeped out. Had this homeless girl followed her all the way here? How? And why? Well, the why was obvious.

The girl looked up.

“Hi.”

Victoria wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. 

“How did you know where I live?”

The girl raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

“I heard you talking about Swankton Butte. Didn't need to be Sherlock to figure it was here.”

Victoria crossed her arms, mostly against the cold.

“What are you doing here? I have no more money for you.”

“No, no, I didn’t come for lolly.”

The girl stuck a hand in her pocket. When she took it out again, it held Victoria’s old leather gloves. 

“Just wanted to give you back these and say thank you for the loan.”

Victoria took them.

“Oh.”

She stroked the gloves to feel their well-known texture under her fingers and felt a lump form in her throat that she furiously tried to swallow down.

“Thanks,” She managed to get out, “That was nice of you.”

“Well, my turn to play Santa, I guess,” The girl said and tipped the large red-and-white hat on her head so it slipped sideways. It made her look ridiculous, which was the point, Victoria guessed.

“Also, it says ‘with love from Liz’ in them, in gold stitching, so I thought they maybe meant something to you.”

“Yes, they do actually.” Victoria mumbled. “They’re from my sister.”

Victoria felt her words began to bubble up, about how she and her sister had had the mother of all fights a year ago and that Lizzie didn’t speak to her anymore, and that everything had been Victoria’s fault and that she wanted to apologise and make everything good again but didn’t know how, and that she hadn’t told anyone of this and it was murdering her inside, but instead of doing anything about it she had fled to London on the other side of the Atlantic to study something utterly unimportant and soul-killing. Luckily she could hinder the words from from spilling out of her, instead she stared at the girl in silence. The girl just nodded, as if she understood. 

“I’m glad, so I didn’t come here for nothing.” She said, “It’s quite a walk to get here from the city, erm, the North Pole, I mean.”

“Tell me about it,” Victoria said, glad to change the subject, “My feet are still all skinned from walking home yesterday.”

“Yes, kind of a dick move from your friends, making you walk all the way for no reason. They seem to be kind of dick friends.”

It was true. They _were_ dick friends. With a heavy heart, Victoria realised her only friends here where dick friends.

The homeless girl watched Victoria while she stood in silence and turned the gloves around and around in her hand. The girl cleared her throat.

“Well,” She said, “It was nice meeting you again, but I’d better head back before it get’s too late. Long walk and all. So, bye then.”

The girl turned and began walking away from her. Something twanged inside Victoria. Maybe this bum girl was the only kind soul she had ever met since coming here to London? At least the only one who cared even he littlest about her. Victoria knew she was grasping at straws, but suddenly London felt very big and cold, and very far from home. 

“Wait!” She shouted after the girl. “Can’t we do something? Now that you’re here?”

The girl halted and glanced over her shoulder.

“What?”

Victoria felt her cheeks burn, but there was no point in backing down now. She shrugged and splayed her hands and pretended this was the most normal situation ever. 

“Like, hang out, or something?”

“You want to chum with me? Why?”

“Why not? We could just talk and have a coffee or something? I mean tea, we could have tea?”

“Sorry, miss, but I’m not dressed for high tea. Maybe another day.”

Victoria breathed out in frustration.

“We can hang out in my room then. It’s right there, my windows are the third and fourth to the left on the third floor. Or second floor in British, I suppose. I’ll make you sandwiches?”

“This is a guess, but I ‘m hardly welcome at your place either.” 

The girl nodded at the door to the student house. There were a lot of faces looking out at them through the windows now. This turned out to be quite the spectacle. Then the girl broke out in a mischievous smile as she lifted her gaze and began studying the rows of windows of the house “But maybe I have a solution.”

Victoria didn’t follow at all.

“Meaning?”

The girl turned her eyes upward to study the sky before looking back at Victoria. 

“Meaning it’ll be dark in an hour.”

“Uh, and meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning I’ll see you then. Just be in your room in an hour and we’ll stick it to the man.”

Chloe glanced to the door where she could see the grumpy door lady watching them through the window. 

“Or woman.”

Victoria shook her head, feeling annoyed over all the secrecy, but she sure would be alone in her room for the rest of the evening regardless, nothing seemed to be able to change that.

“Uh, okay? I’m Victoria by the way.”

“I know.”

Victoria frowned.

“You seem to know a lot about me, but I know nothing about you.”

“I’m Santa’s little helper, remember?”

The girl turned and began walking away again, and Victoria felt anger flare up inside.

“You can at least give me your fucking name!” She shouted. 

The girl stopped and glanced back at Victoria with raised eyebrows. 

“Sorry,” Victoria said, “Didn’t mean to shout at you.”

“Nah, don’t worry,” the girl answered with a shrug. “And it’s Chloe.”

“What?”

“My name is Chloe,” She said and winked. “See you in an hour.”

When Victoria came back to the hall, the group of girls still stood there glaring at her. 

“Who was that?” One of them asked.

Victoria scrunched her brow at her.

“No-one.”

“Looked like you knew each other pretty well.”

“But we don’t.”

Victoria ran up the stairs, saying nothing more.


	3. Chapter 3

Victoria sat at her desk studying the history of international trade agreement theory while waiting, or rather hoping, for the girl to throw a snowball at her window or something. How they would go from there she wasn’t sure of, but it had sounded like she had a plan. But, more than an hour had passed, and Victoria had come to terms with that it probably would be just her and the book for the rest of the evening. When someone knocked on her window, two storeys up, she almost fell out of her chair. A pale face looked in though the dark glass, and Victoria rushed to open it. The girl, Chloe, was out there, clinging like a monkey to the stone structure. When Victoria pushed up the window, Chloe hooked her elbows over the windowsill and looked up with a red-faced smile.

“‘Ello,” She puffed. 

Victoria looked over the girls back down to the yard twenty feet below.

“How the hell did you–”

The distance from her window to the ground made her knees weak.

“Come in for heaven’s sake, before you fall to your death!”

The girl climbed in and Victoria helped her by holding on to her arm. This close she smelled her rank body odour and musky filth. Victoria started to think this had been a bad idea, inviting a stranger into her room. Was she some kind of cat burglar? Who knew what this person was capable of. To give her time to think, Victoria bent down and brushed up some snow that Chloe had dragged in with her and threw it out the window before closing it. She had to do the best of this situation; after all it was Victoria who had invited Chloe, so it was her responsibility to make this work. She turned to the bum girl and tried a friendly smile.

“So,” She said, almost clapping her hands like her mom did, but in the last second let them fall to hang by her side instead, “Welcome. That was kinda crazy, but also kinda awesome.”

Chloe shrugged.

“Well…” She looked around, “Blinding gaff you’ve got here.”

“Uh, thank you?”

She guessed that the girl had said something nice about her apartment. So far all well and good, but there was one problem Victoria had to deal with right away. She had to choose her words carefully though.

“Are you cold? How about starting with a hot bath?”

She gestured towards the bathroom. 

“I got my own tub right here.”

“A bath?” Chloe answered with eyes shining. “Yes, I really would like that!”

Victoria grabbed a couple of coins from her coin cup and fed the heater in the hall. It started ticking as it began to warm up the water inside.

“There. It’s pretty fast, so you can begin fill up the tub right away. I’ll take your clothes and run them in the washer meanwhile. You can borrow some from me while they dry.”

“Oh, that would be splendiferous,” Chloe said and threw her threadbare old coat over Victoria’s chair. She continued to pull a moth-eaten jersey over her head. Underneath she wore another frayed jersey that she removed just as quickly, and under that a stained paisley shirt of undefinable colour. 

“I don’t have any undies, sorry,” Chloe said as she pulled down her old oversized pair of men’s trousers. 

”You may not believe it,” Chloe continued as she unbuttoned the once stylish shirt and threw it over the jerseys on the chair. “But underwear are the hardest thing to come by for some reason.”

“Really?” Victoria heard herself say. She found the situation to be awkward but she couldn’t stop looking. In the nude, Chloe was not much more than pale skin and bones; her ribs clearly defined through her skin and the spine protruded like a mountain ridge on her back when she climbed into the bathtub. Victoria had been a swimmer since childhood, even if she swam at the most two or three times a week now, but she wasn’t a stranger to seeing unknown naked women up close. Somehow, this was strange anyway, maybe because it was in her own room and not at an athletics facility. Chloe herself didn’t seem to be aware of the awkwardness.

“Yeah, and socks,” She said as she sat back in the tub and letting the steaming water splash over her legs. Her dirty hair spilled over the rim in long blond tangles, almost reaching down to the tiled floor. “I guess people don’t feel comfortable giving away their old knickers like they do with other kinds of clothes…” 

Chloe fell silent as she studied the rows upon rows of shampoos, conditioners, cremes, bath-bombs and oils of different sorts, sizes and brands lined up on a shelf beside the bathtub.

“Crikey, that’s a lot of bottles.”

“Take whatever you need,” Victoria said. “I’ll go to the washing room in the meantime so you can have some privacy.”

She continued to pick up the heap of clothes spread around her desk.

“Victoria, wait,” Chloe yelped. 

Victoria popped her head into the bathroom again. The stream of hot water had made the air all misty in there. Chloe peeked up from the bathtub, she had dipped her head below the water and now her hair was all wet and plastered to her skull. Now she looked like any normal woman in a normal bathtub. 

“Problems?” Victoria asked, a note of worry in her voice.

“I, um, I’m paralysed,” Chloe said.

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t know which shampoo to use, there are so many. Can you help me pick?”

Victoria breathed out.

“Oh, sure, do you want to smell like cinnamon or lavender or rose or magnolia or–?”

Chloe grinned.

“Anyone would do, they will all be an improvement for sure.”

Victoria watched the girl lying in the water and wondered just how on earth this heavenly naiad had ended up in her bathtub on this cold December’s day evening. The shy smile on the girl’s face was endearing, and her pale cheeks were now glossy and rosy from the heat.

“I think my favourite is rose.”

“Then rose it is. And which bottle is that?”

“It’s the large, pink, heart-shaped one to the upper left, with the golden cap formed like a little rose?”

“Gotcha.”

Victoria closed the bathroom door behind her and went to pick up Chloe’s stuff from where she had dropped them before. Oh lord how the clothes reeked when the snow melted and was soaked up by the fabrics. The coat and sneakers would go into the washing machine too. She hoped the dirt wasn't the only thing that kept these duds from disintegrating.

The laundry room lay on the other side of the common area, so she had to go past the tv-room, trough the parlour, the dining hall and the kitchen to reach it. Victoria hoped she wouldn’t bump into any of the other girls on her way there, but she knew chances of that were slim. With long strides she moved through the corridor and steered through the lounge with its couches and tables. It was empty, but she spotted Vanna and Corrie in the telly-room, sitting glued to the huge 26 inch Telefunken colour television set, watching the intro to Mork & Mindy. Good, Victoria would have no problem sneaking past them. Any other day she would’ve sat there too; Mork & Mindy was one of her favourite television shows. But not today. She knew she would get it on VHS later so she could live with missing an episode. Victoria quickened her steps when she turned the corner to the kitchen. Almost there. 

On the other side, she ran straight into Alyssa who came carrying a tray with three cups, plates and a cake. As short as she was, Alyssa bumped her face straight into the bundled up clothes Victoria carried. 

“Ouff!”

Alyssa reeled backwards but managed to save the tray and its content from crashing down on the floor, which was quite a feat.

“Watch it!” Alyssa squeaked as she regained balance. Then she scrunched her nose.

“Ugh, what _is_ that?”

She stared at the bundle in Victoria’s arms and grimaced, “It stinks. Is it… clothes?”

“It’s none of your business, that’s what it is,” Victoria snarled and tried to pass, but Alyssa blocked the way. 

“Tell me,” She said. “I think the Schwarzwald touched it and I need to know if we can still eat it.”

The collision had made Victoria drop one of the girl’s old sneakers, and now she kneeled down to pick it up. A flash of recognition passed over Alyssa’s face.

“Oh my god,” She whispered, “It’s that homeless girl from yesterday’s clothes, isn’t it?” 

She stared up at Victoria. 

“Vickie, what are you doing with that bum’s clothes?”

“I haven’t murdered her and stolen them, if that’s what you think.”

“No, but–”

Victoria forced herself past. Alyssa stood staring after her, still as if carved in stone. 

-

When Victoria reached the washing room, it was empty and both clothes washers were free. She opened them and started throwing in the dirty laundry. When she crammed in the old musty coat, she noticed something in one of its pockets. With a groan Victoria took out all the clothes again and searched through all pockets and compartments. She found about one pound in small coins, a plastic bag with some no-brand tampons in plastic protective wrappings, a very scruffy toothbrush and a flat tube of toothpaste, and a small piece of soap, all dry and cracked. She also found a bent pocket diary, a stump of a pencil and a small folding knife. In the coat’s breast pocket she found some matches and a half-smoked rollie. She sniffed it. Pot. All that was left of the money she had given her yesterday, Victoria guessed.

She lined up Chloe’s stuff in a neat row on the little table in the laundry room before she put back the clothes in the machines, poured in plenty of washing powder and set the temperature to extra hot. With a satisfying hum they started up and soon foamy water sloshed around with the clothes inside, round and round.

Victoria sank down on the chair by the table and watched it for a while. It was strange how mesmerising a running clothes washer could be. She always pictured old bent washer-women down by an icy river, scrubbing clothes with hands red and chapped from cold when she saw a washing machine in action, and felt a small thankfulness for the progress made in the world. Sometimes when things didn’t feel so great, it was good to remind oneself of things that had been considerably worse before. There stood a dryer next to the washing machines, so the clothes would even be both clean and dry in a couple of hours.

She released her gaze from the revolving windows of the clothes washers and let it run over the stuff on the little table next to her. She wondered if these things, so few that she could carry them in one hand, was everything Chloe owned. Victoria grabbed the knife and folded out the blade. It was clean and looked keen enough, but were hopefully only for sharpening pencils with. The tampons… She didn’t want to think about the mess of having the monthlies without proper sanitary products or the ability to wash, or even the privacy needed to use them. Then, after some consideration, she picked up the small notebook and leafed through it. The pages were filled with text written in a small and precise hand. It looked like a diary filled with thoughts and poetry or maybe song texts. Victoria would love to read more but thought it was too much of an intrusion so she put it back down again. Instead she started to collect Chloe’s things and stuff them in her pockets when Corrine, Vanna and Josephine stormed into the small room. Alyssa was there too, in the background. They all looked upset.

“We’ve heard all about what you did yesterday,” Corrine said, “But this is taking it too far!”

“Yes,” Vanna said, “You can’t use our washing machines to do the laundry for every tramp you meet. Just don’t.”

“What’s next?” Josephine added, “Are you going to invite them to our dining hall? To eat our food?”

Victoria scowled at them.

“Fuck off and let me through.”

Corrine smiled a sweet smile, but she didn’t move one inch.

“Oh, so very ladylike. We should all bow down for the holy saint Victoria.”

She curtsied.

“Your wish is our command, my lady saint.”

“And this must be her holy text!” Josephine said and snatched the small diary from Victoria’s hand.

“Hey, gimme that!”

Victoria grabbed after the notebook but Josephine kept it out of reach, retreating behind she other girls who acted like a protective wall.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here…”

She rummaged through the pages with eyes that shone in glee. 

“Oh, listen to this.”

Josephine held up the small book and recited in a theatrical voice:

“Quand les pauvres n'auront plus rien à manger, ils mangeront les riches.” 

She looked at the others.

“Anyone knows what that means? My French is a bit rusty.”

She was met with shrugs and shaking of heads. 

“It means ‘when the poor are out of food, they will eat the rich.’” Victoria said in a dark voice. “Now give back the book.”

“Ah,” Josephine said, “Of course, that’s what it means. How _commiserative_.”

The other girls looked at each other and sniggered. Victoria tried to get hold of the diary again, but Josephine danced away, holding up a hand.

“Ah-a-ah. There’s more. Listen. Quand les pauvres blah-blah-blah,” Josephine gestured in the air to show that she didn’t care to recite the whole sentence again, then she cleared her throat and continued; “That quote has always seemed true to me on a basic level, but today I met someone that for the first time may prove me wrong.”

Victoria noticed how her ears started to heat. This was not right, but Josephine continued to read from the book, albeit in a less mincing voice this time.

“This person, a woman who could have been my sister if I had one, probably saved my life yesterday, though I’m not sure she knows it. Let’s call her Vee.”

Josephine looked up from the book.

“This is dramatic stuff,” She said, and the other girls laughed. Josephine herself didn’t.

“What she did; going against peer pressure and being willing to sacrifice some of her own wellbeing to help a fellow human, even if it seemed to be a small thing; if more people were like her this world wouldn’t be such a miserable place.”

Josephine paused. The others snickered again, but Josephine was quiet. She took a deep breath before continuing to read.

“For me, Vee saved not only my arse from being frozen solid, but more importantly, she made me regain some hope in humanity on a night when I was about to give up. Peace and love to you, sister.”

Josephine lowered the book and stared at Victoria.

“It’s you who she writes about, Vickie, isn’t it? You are Vee.”

With a serious face, she held out the notebook.

“Oh Victoria, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise–“

Victoria snatched back the book from her and left the room without a word. 

-

The door to her room closed behind Victoria and she had to lean against it and breathe. After a while the turmoil inside her lessened to a bearable level. What the hell had she got herself into? 

She heard the splashing of water coming from the bathroom, and Victoria felt that she really wanted to be alone now. No homeless girls to take care of and feel responsible for. All this about inviting this bum into her room had been a stupid idea. Probably one of her stupidest ever, but she couldn’t send her away right now. If only because Chloe’s clothes were in the washer and if Victoria didn’t want to give away a set of her own clothes, and shoes, not to forget, then she had to wait until they were done and dry. Another reason was that you didn’t treat a guest that way, if it wasn’t an emergency, and even if Victoria was upset, this wasn’t an emergency.

She opened one of her wardrobes and grabbed a towel, then she picked out a pair of socks, panties and a multicoloured Ocean Pacific t-shirt that she thought would look good on Chloe, and a pair of soft tracksuit trousers. Lastly she grabbed her dressing gown from where it hung over the overloaded valet stand by the bed and went over and knocked on the bathroom door. She got no response. She knocked again, a little harder this time, but still no answer. 

“Chloe, I’m coming in!” Victoria shouted and opened the door. 

Chloe emerged from under the water with an exhale that sent off a spray of drops.

“‘Ello, I didn’t hear you at first, sorry.”

Victoria dropped the towel and clothes on the toilet lid.

“Here are some stuff for when you’re done. I’ll go prepare tea and snacks while you finish up.”

“Great!”

Chloe leaned back in the bathtub and closed her eyes.

“Can I soak here just a bit longer? It’s pretty wonderful.”

Victoria couldn’t help but smile.

“Sure, as long as you want.”

-

The other girls were in the tv-room, so Victoria was able to reign alone in the kitchen. She started by putting the kettle on, then she made a couple of sandwiches. Pictures of Chloe’s skinny body and how she hungrily had stuffed scraps of food from the pavement appeared in Victoria’s mind, so she made a couple more sandwiches. She wished she could’ve scrounged up a hot meal, but toast, cheese and smoked ham was all she had. She fired up the gas oven and grilled the sandwiches to make them a bit more tasty. The fruit basket were refilled on Mondays and Wednesdays so she grabbed some oranges from its plentiful pile. The kettle whistled and she filled up her teapot and fetched cups and plates from the cupboard. A t that time the sandwiches were more or less ready so she loaded up everything on a tray and looked it over. Victoria pursed her lips. Chloe probably wanted her tea white and with sugar, so she filled up a milk pitcher and grabbed the sugar bowl and put it on the tray too, though it shouldn’t leave the kitchen; it was a large antique china piece with a matching silver and enamel spoon, and probably worth a small fortune. When she was already about breaking rules, Victoria took a small vase with fresh flowers from a nearby table and put it on the tray as well. With a grunt of satisfaction she hefted the now pretty heavy tray and carried it back towards her room. No-one could say she didn’t take good care of her guests, when she had some.

-

Wise from experience, Victoria had left the door a teeny-weeny bit ajar so she was able open it with her foot while she carried the big tray in both hands. In her room, Chloe was up from the bath, clad in Victoria’s Pierre Cardin dressing gown and with her hair wrapped in a towel. She was looking through Victoria’s extensive record collection. The truth was, it hadn’t been so extensive when she first move there, but she had frequented music stores a lot since moving. Not only because the record shops of London where excellent but also because she had much more time of her own now and music was a nice way of filling lonely afternoons and evenings with meaning.

“Hey,” Victoria said as she put down the food on the small dining table, ”Do you like music?”

“Can’t live without it.” Chloe said and put back the Bill Withers - album she had read on the back of, “Love this.”

“You do?”

Victoria hadn’t pictured Bill Withers to be Chloe’s style, at all. 

“Let’s listen to it while we eat,” She said as she started to set the table and pour tea from the tea pot into the fancy cups.

Chloe held up an album from Lou Reed.

“And this.”

She continued to browse through the rows of albums.

“And this…, and this…, and this…“

She looked up from the record collection.

“You’ve got a great taste in music, Victoria.”

Victoria’s tummy knotted up. That was about the nicest thing anyone had said to her in a long time. 

“Thanks.” She croaked. “Sugar and milk?”

“Yes please.”

Chloe was inspecting another album now, before taking out the record and putting it on the platter of Victoria’s turntable.

“I’ve heard about this group but I didn’t realised they had released an album.”

She held up the record cover to Victoria.

“Can we listen to it?”

It was the album ‘Three imaginary boys’ by a new group called The Cure. 

“Sure, it’s great but also a bit melancholic.” 

Chloe started the LP and smiled as the first tunes started to play.

“No problem, even sad music makes me happy.”

-

They ate sandwiches, drank tea and listened to music, and talked. Later, they moved down to the rug by the bed, sitting cross-legged on the floor with their teacups and oranges and continued to listen to music and talk.

“You know what?” Chloe said after a couple of cups of tea and a couple of albums.

“How about a little holiday celebration? Do you smoke?”

Victoria had been smoking on and off since she was fourteen. She was aware that it wasn’t good for her physical performance, but it was not easy to stop. Sometimes a smoke could be a lifesaver, pot or not, and right now she could really use a cigarette. Victoria shrugged.

“Sure.”

Chloe looked around.

“Alright, where’s my anorak?”

“I put it in the washer with your other clothes. It was necessary.”

Chloe stared at her and put a hand to the mouth.

“Ah, shite, I had some clobber there–“

“Don’t worry, it’s here.”

Victoria rose and fetched the small wooden bowl where she had put Chloe’s stuff. She handed it down to her.

“Oh, grand, thank you so much.”

Victoria didn’t sit down.

“I know it’s none of my business,” She said, “But do you have anything left of the money I gave you?”

Chloe rummaged through the contents of the small lacquered bowl.

“Of course, but not on me. Can’t be walking around with that much money, I would be robbed clean twice a day. I have them stashed at a safe place.” 

She held up the cigarette stump with a smile.

“Here, sit down and share the last spliff with me, will you?”

Victoria nodded.

“Sure, got to put your clothes in the dryer first.”

-

After moving the wet clothes over to the dryer, Victoria rushed back to her apartment. She had a nagging fear that Chloe would be gone, but she was still there. She had picked up Victoria’s brand new acoustic guitar and sat on the floor playing some chords while humming a melody, but when Victoria entered she stopped.

“Oh, you play the guitar?” Victoria said.

Chloe struck a ringing chord. 

“Not really, do you?”

“No,” Victoria said and sat down beside Chloe. “I bought it so I could learn, but it’s hard. What song did you just play? It sounded great.”

“Nah, it was nothing, I was just fooling around.”

Chloe threw the guitar on the bed and reached for the cigarette. She struck a match and lit it, then inhaled deep before handing over the cigarette to Victoria.

“But I _used_ to play in a band.”

“Like a rock band?” Victoria said and puffed on the cigarette. It tickled her throat and her head was already becoming slightly fuzzy. Or perhaps that was just the placebo effect. Didn’t really matter what it was. 

Chloe gave her a skewed smile.

“In my dreams. No, it was a brass band. I played the euphonium, and later the trombone too. But that was before, when I was a kid.”

She got back the cigarette from Victoria and took a drag, then exhaled in a cloud of smoke.

“It was fun, we even had concerts and stuff.”

“Really?” Victoria said, “I’ve played the piano since I was a toddler, but I hated it and never got any good. Could never see myself as a concert pianist anyway.”

Chloe nodded and gave back the cigarette.

“Didn’t have much options myself. Music was all there was when I grew up. Or sports. But I suck at sports.” 

She gave Victoria a sidelong glance.

“So what can you see yourself as then? When it comes to options I imagine you had quite a few.”

Her eyes swept over Victorias long curly blonde hair, then down to her broad shoulders and bulging arms, but said nothing. Victoria took another smoke before answering.

“Well, I love sports for a start. Done competitive swimming my whole life, and I enjoy playing tennis and soccer. But I haven’t got the time now.”

There wasn’t much more than a stump left of the cigarette now, and Victoria gave it back to Chloe.

“Take the rest, I’m hazy enough already.”

Chloe took it and finished it in a couple of strong drags, then crushed the butt on a plate between them.

“I imagine you don’t suck at sports like me, Vee. You look crazy strong.”

“Yeah, well…”

One thing Victoria didn’t love about sports was how it had changed her body. While her schoolmates had grown butts and boobs, her breast remained puny, or ‘bribs’ as her friends had called them, much to her chagrin, and her hips and ass where just muscles and tendons and bone. Clothes didn’t fit her, and the first thing she did when buying jackets and tops was to take out the shoulder pads. And bras… Yeah, she wore them almost entirely for show. Skirts looked plain ugly on her and jeans hanged like an empty sack over her bottom. Victoria had trained herself to move more like a lady with swaying hips and gracious upper body movements, and it mostly worked, though sometimes it made her feel like a fool. Anywise, she was very far from how a woman was supposed to be according to all those glossy magazines, and she had never, ever, felt sexy.

“Can I touch?” Chloe said, waking Victoria from her thoughts. 

“Huh?”

Chloe laughed with a tilt of her head. She was damn cute when she did that shy smile. 

“Your muscles? Can I touch them?”

Victoria felt her mood drop. She wasn’t a fucking circus animal. Her stare made Chloe shift where she sat.

“Sorry, Vee. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Your muscles are awesome. I’m jealous of them.”

She gave her an unhappy look, and Victoria couldn’t find any hints of scorn or derision there.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Victoria pursed her lips.

“Alright then.”

She rolled up her blouse-sleeve to the shoulder and flexed her arm.

Chloe’s fingers were cool to her skin when they traced along the curves of her biceps and lateral deltoid muscle. Chloe said nothing, but her pale face was a shade pinker when she removed her hand and sat back again. 

“So,” Victoria said, trying to ignore the butterflies that threatened to escape her tummy and fly out her mouth, “More tea?”

-

They drank the last of the tea and Chloe ate the last sandwiches. Then they listened to and talked more music. Victoria persuaded Chloe to play more on the guitar, and she ended up teaching Victoria to play ‘House of the Rising Sun’. Victoria proved to be a fast learner and could soon strum the chords without major hiccups. Chloe knew the lyrics by heart, the Joan Baez version she pointed out, and sang them in a strong and surprisingly dark voice, except that she changed ‘Rising Sun’ to ‘Swankton Butte’ and ‘New Orleans’ to ‘London Town’, which made Victoria break down in giggles every time. After that Victoria joined in and they sang ‘House of Swankton Butte’ together at the top of their lungs until neighbours started to bang on the pipes. When Victoria glanced at the alarm clock by her bed it showed almost midnight. How the hell had it become so late?

“Damn, I’ve got all day seminars tomorrow. I should go to bed soonish.”

Chloe stood up. 

“Yes, of course.”

Victoria looked through the window. Outside twinkling stars bespangled the deep sky, and the night was still, dark and cold. 

“Wait, Chloe, you are not walking home this late.”

She bit her lip. What did home mean to Chloe? Would it be under some bridge somewhere tonight? Or a public toilet at Victoria station if she was lucky? That was so fucked up.

“I mean, you can sleep here tonight.”

Instead of looking grateful as Victoria had anticipated, Chloe’s face got a strange expression.

“What?” Victoria sneered, “What did I say?”

“Do you, um, do you expect me to do something, in return?”

“Do something?”

“You know, to you? Because then I’d rather not stay.”

Flummoxed, Victoria stared at her. Then the penny dropped. 

“You mean, do something to me, like, uh, sexually?”

Chloe shrugged. 

“That’s how it usually goes. Gotta pay somehow.”

Victoria went red like a beetroot.

“I’m… I’m not like that at all!”

Chloe shrugged again, like it was nothing, but her smile seemed relieved.

“Great, just had to make sure about the lie of the land.”

“Just so you know, I’ve got a _boy_ friend, back in the states. I would _never_ –”

Victoria glared at her with cheeks burning and Chloe held up her hands.

“It’s alright, Victoria, it’s cool. Don’t worry about it.”

Victoria rose. She was so angry she could barely speak.

“Are you dumb? How could you even think–” She stuttered, and Chloe looked really regretful.

“I’m sorry, Victoria, I guess I’m pretty damaged from my… uh…situation…”

Her eyes glistered with tears.

“I… I didn’t mean to hurt you. Honestly. It’s me. I’m this broken.“

Victoria couldn’t stand it any more. She walked over to where Chloe stood and wrapped her arms around the tall, slim girl. Chloe stiffened, but when Victoria didn’t move, but just stood there holding her, she relaxed and leaned her head against Victoria’s shoulder with a sob. 

“I’m sorry, ” Victoria whispered. “I didn’t mean to shout. I just meant that I would never do anything like that to you. Never.”

They stood embracing in silence until Victoria grabbed Chloe by the shoulders and looked in the eyes. 

“Let’s go brush our teeth now, okay? Do you need a new toothbrush? Green or yellow?” 

While Chloe peed, Victoria changed into her pyjama and fetched Chloe’s clothes from the dryer. She folded them up and put them on the floor next to her bed, then she knocked on the bathroom door, a spare toothbrush from the cupboard in her hand. Green.

“Done?”

Chloe opened.

“Yup.”

It felt strange to brush her teeth side by side with another person in the little bathroom. Correction; it felt strange because in her mind she had pictured how awkward is would be if that situation would ever become real, but it turned out it wasn’t. It felt good to have Chloe there, even if it was cramped with both of them jostling for space in front of the sink and mirror, brushing away. Chloe started to make faces while the lathering tooth paste drooled down her chin, and Victoria couldn’t help but laugh out loud, spraying the bathroom mirror with large white spots. 

When Victoria came out from the toilet after her before-bed pee, Chloe had rolled herself in Victoria’s thick, quilted comforter on the mat beside the bed. She looked like some kind of big grub. But a very cute grub. 

“Are you doing alright down there?” Victoria asked as she stepped over Chloe and sank down on her bed.

Chloe peeked up from inside the pink and green, silky cocoon she lay wrapped inside.

“Are you kidding me? This is the best bed I’ve had in ages.”

Victoria smiled as she pulled up her blanket and stretched out to turn off the light.

“Sleep well then.”

“You bet.”

* * *

Victoria woke up in the middle of the night to a sound. The room was pitch black. Someone was crying softy in the dark. 

“Chloe?”

The sobbing stopped abruptly. Victoria rolled over to her side.

“Chloe, what is it?”

“It’s nothing,” Chloe snivelled back. Victoria could tell how she tried hard to sound normal, “I didn’t mean to wake you up. Please go back to sleep, Vee. You’ve got classes tomorrow.

Victoria grumbled inside. Like hell she could lie down and sleep now. She rose up on one elbow and tried to get a glimpse Chloe through the darkness.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“I’m fine.”

“Hey, you can tell me. Are you sure it wasn’t a nightmare?”

“No, I had a great dream.“

“So? Then what’s the problem?”

“Well, then I woke up, and I… I just….”

The snivelling began again, this time accompanied by suppressed sobs and whimpers.

When they were kids Lizzie always came to Victoria when she was upset for any reason. Weakness was nothing you showed to your parents, but maybe to your sister. At least when you were seven years old. 

“Come here.”

“Huh?” Chloe sniffled from the floor.

“I said come here.” Victoria said in a commanding voice while she folded up her blanket and moved aside to make room, just like she had done for Lizzie countless times.

After some hesitation, Chloe climbed into the bed and lay down beside Victoria as she draped the blanket around them. Victoria held Chloe close while she cried, but eventually, sleep took them both. 


	4. Chapter 4

The morning after, Victoria wasn’t woken by her alarm clock, but by someone banging on her door and shouting until she couldn’t ignore it anymore. Still dizzy from sleep she sat up in bed and scratched her head. Had she overslept? The bed felt empty and Victoria lit the bed lamp to get some light. Victoria’s clock showed that it was way too early to get up, and why was someone shouting?

Where Chloe had slept was now a big, cold space. Chloe herself was gone. The quilted cover lay folded at the foot of the bed, and Victoria could see that Chloe had done her best to clean up among the dirty dishes, scattered records and orange peel from yesterday, but it must’ve been futile work in the darkness. The clothes Chloe had borrowed lay in a stack on the chair beside the bed. Her pair of undies and socks too. 

“Chloe, you could've kept those.” Victoria muttered, “Didn't I tell you?”

She had likely forgot, or rather, she had thought there would still be time for that.

Why did Chloe have to leave without even saying goodbye? Even if they never could’ve been friends for real, there was so much Victoria had wanted to ask and tell her. But it was too late now. Somehow Victoria was always too late. The shouting and knocking on her door continued, and it really got on her nerve.

“Calm the fuck down, I’m coming!”

A key rattled in her lock, and a moment later she heard how the door swung open. 

“What the hell?” Victoria grumbled as she stumbled out of bed and out in the little hall, snatching up her dressing gown from the floor on the way. In the hall she met a very displeased Mrs Moore, who put her hands to her sides while looking her up and down.

“So there you are, miss Chase, alive and well.”

She spoke over her shoulder; “Mr Balwme, you may go back to your quarters, you service is no longer required. It wasn’t at all what we feared.”

Behind her stood the janitor, Mr Balwme. The elderly gent cradled a big spanner in his hands, and further out in the corridor, Victoria glimpsed Alyssa and Corrine in their night-gowns, bleary-eyed and hair undone. For a long time she had suspected Alyssa used hair rollers to get those beautiful wavy locks of hers, and now she had definite proof.

Without asking, Mrs Moore stomped into her apartment and wrinkled her nose at the mess. She gave the room a stare which eventually ended up on Victoria.

“Miss Chase, what is going on here?”

Victoria stared back.

“That’s my question exactly, what the fuck is going on?”

“You mind your language, miss! This is a decent establishment, not a bawdyhouse, so act like you belong here.” 

Victoria was lost.

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Oh, don’t pretend to not know what this is about.”

“Well, I don’t, so just fucking tell me for Christ’s sake.”

“Please do not take our Lord’s name in vain.”

“Please do not meddle in my affairs, then.”

Mrs Moore scoffed as an answer and began to poke around in the room while muttering to herself.

“Affairs indeed. I wish I could say I am shocked. Such a parvenu, improper, impertinent young woman.”

She shook her head.

“All fur coat and no knickers, as my poor da would’ve said.”

Mrs Moore held up the sugar bowl.

“This may not leave the kitchen! It’s antique Radford china and a complete waste on you young bints.”

She pointed at the vase of flowers, “And this is not supposed to be here either. Did you steal it from the common room or kitchen?”

Victoria rolled her eyes.

“Borrowed…”

Mrs More only shook her head again, then she picked up a piece of paper lying on Victoria’s desk and read it through. Her face went from annoyed to content and she ended te short read with a satisfied sigh. Victoria who hadn’t noticed the sheet of paper before cursed.

“What is that? Give it to me.”

Mrs Moore looked up from the note and smiled at her. It wasn’t the kind sort. 

“Oh no, young miss, this I will keep. As evidence.”

“Evidence of what?”

“A boy was seen climbing out from your window earlier this morning. We thought it might have been a burglar, or worse. But it seems it was just disregard for the rules of this house and the conducts of a proper young woman. As I should’ve expected.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Mrs Moore Tut-tuted and read aloud from the note.

“…thank you for the best night of my life. I will remember you always. C.”

Victoria felt a cold hand grip around her heart and reached for the note, but Mrs Moore promptly folds dit up and stashed dit in one of her dress-pockets.

“So no-one was here, you say? Do you care to explain how this note ended up on your desk, then?”

“Yes, someone was here, but it’s not what you think.”

“I don’t need to ‘think’ anything. Boys on the room are strictly, let me stress, _strictly_ , forbidden! I want to remind you it’s not only your reputation on the line here, but the whole of Swankton Butte’s.”

“But there _was_ no boy here.”

“What do you mean there was no boy here?”

“Duh, because it was a girl?”

“A girl?” “A girl! I don’t understand how you could _possibly_ think that would help you in any way! I know we live in a so called ‘permissive society’ now, but to hear this has been going on under my roof, right under my very nose! Disgusting!”

“We’re just friends. I can’t be held responsible for your dirty mind.”

“You are not getting away with this.”

Mrs Moore’s eyes was drawn to the cigarette stump on the plate. She picked it up and held it to her nose.

“My word! Is this narcotic? I can’t believe it!”

“Oh, come on, that’s just–.“

She held up her hand in Victoria’s face and started to count on her fingers.

“One, We’ve got stealing or at least improper use of establishment property on multiple accounts, two, we’ve got misconduct of the most severe degree, _most_ severe, and three, we’ve got drugs. Never in my life have I ever… I want you out of here, miss Chase, today!”

“What? Just like that? I get no warning?”

“This is your _third_ warning. Third and final.”

“You are fucking crazy, lady. How am I supposed to move out in one day?”

“That’s not my problem. You broke about all the rules of the house, which are clearly written; no staying out late, no visitors in the room during the night, and no alcohol or other drugs. That means immediate expulsion.”

So, this was check mate.

Or maybe not. Victoria stared down at the concierge.

“I want to speak to Mr Nohrson.”

“I won’t go and wake up Mr Nohrson for this silliness.”

Victoria opened her mouth, but Mrs Moore talked over her. 

“There’s no point in arguing because there is no debate. You have forfeited your contract, which you signed yourself, let me remind you.”

Victoria crossed her her arms and gave Mrs Moore her best commanding bitch-stare which she had worked on ever since middle school and lately improved to perfection.

“Either you go wake him now, or I let my father call him and wake him up in half an hour. It’s your choice.”

She didn’t even had to ask ‘do you know who my father is’. It was understood.

Her eyes met and, after a long pause, Mrs Moore hissed and looked away. 

“Fine, but it will not do you any good. By God I am in the right here!”

Mrs Moore slammed the door so it almost jumped off its hinges when she left.

Victoria sank down on her chair with a sigh. So much for not using the Lord’s name in vain.

-

Twenty minutes later the immaculate Mr Nohrson came knocking on her door. He even bowed when she opened. 

“Good morning, Miss Chase. I am very sorry for this whole kerfuffle. My hope is that we will be able to put this behind us with no further, uh, misgivings.”

“That’s entirely up to you.”

“Yes, I understand. Mrs Moore and the whole of Swankton Butte would like to express our sincerest apology for the infraction. She is a bit old-fashioned and believe rules should be applied equally to everybody, but as we both know, you and I, that is not how the world works.”

Victoria scoffed him in the face. 

“Sincerest? Really? So where is Mrs Moore then? I want to hear the apology from Mrs Moore herself, not through some two-faced messenger.” 

Mr Nohrson stared at her, taken aback. It pleased Victoria to be able to crack the varnish of this polished man so easily. But blink and you would have missed it. Mr Nohrson composed himself and smiled.

“Miss Chase, is that necessary? I can assure you we are all very–”

“Yes, it is necessary. And _furthermore_ I want a guarantee that I won’t be harassed by your staff in the future.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it and sighed. 

“Of course, Miss Chase, I will see it done. In return I must beg of you to be a little more discreet in the future. I hope you understand.”

Victoria grunted and made an upper body movement that could mean either yes or no depending on how you wanted to read it. Never show weakness, it will only come back and bite you in the butt.

“I’m expecting Mrs Moore within thirty minutes.”

-

Mr Nohrson and Mrs Moore showed up just as Victoria was about to go out the door. Mr Nohrson didn’t wear his usual smile, and Mrs Moore was red-faced and glared at her with malice in her eyes. 

As they got closer, Mr Nohrson nodded.

“Miss Chase, we are here for the apology. Maybe if we could have some privacy?”

Victoria closed the door behind her and locked it.

“No, I’m fine here.”

Mrs Moores stiffened, but Mr Nohrson laid a hand on her shoulder and coaxed her forward. Victoria glanced around but to her disappointment there were no-one else here. The others had probably already left for school, and if this dragged on for much longer, she would be late to her own seminars. She crossed her arms and turned to Mrs Moore.

“Yes, go on.”

Mrs Moore cleared her throat and began to speak while staring at her feet.

“Miss Chase, I’ve come–”

“Please, Mrs Moore, look me in the eyes when you speak to me.”

Mrs Moore lifted her gaze. Her eyes where dark.

“Miss Chase, I’ve come to ask forgiveness for my inappropriate behaviour. It was wholly unwarranted.” 

Victoria was back in highschool. This was what she did; winning by any means, and ensuring that her opponents were crushed, never to be able to rise again. She gave Mrs Moore a piercing look.

“And?”

Mrs Moore paused before continuing. Her hands were clenched in hard fists.

“And, I assure you it will not happen again, miss.”

Victoria sighed and gestured for Mrs Moore to continue.

“And?”

Mrs Moor gave her a bewildered look, and Mr Nohrson leaned in whispered something in her ear. The woman tensed up even more, and her face took an even deeper shade of red. When she continued, her voice was like gravel on rock. 

“And, I will not bother you again whatsoever. If you would accept my sincerest apology, miss Chase.”

Victoria waited until the situation had sunk into Mrs Moore, then she nodded and grabbed her bag from the floor.

“That’ll do. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have classes to attend.”


	5. Chapter 5

The seminars were tedious and uninteresting. If this had been high school back in New York, Victoria would’ve been exhilarated by her success in snubbing Mrs Moore, but now it didn’t make her feel so great. 

This whole Mrs Moore thing had all been a fools gamble because she and her father had had a real falling out when she decided to move to London, and he would most definitely not have called Mr Nohrson, even if she had been able to get hold of him down there in Kenya. She had been flying by the seat of her pants, and had been lucky. This time. 

Alyssa sat by her side as usual, but didn’t bother to give her a look, and the professor and her classmates were droning on about the history of international trade theory while Victoria doodled her notebook full of unidentifiable shapes. Often they looked a little like the letter c. 

While she sat there and let her pencil run free on the striped paper, a small insect dropped in the middle of her notebook. 

“What the hell?”

Victoria picked up the small wingless fusiform creature between her thumb and index finger. It waggled its tiny legs in the air as she did so,. She had seen nothing like it before. It looked pathetic, but where had it come from? 

“What do you got there?” Alyssa said and leaned forward. Her voice rose in pitch. “Is it a louse?” 

Ah, so that’s what it is, Victoria thought. She had got cooties. 

Alyssa shrieked and stood up at her desk so her chair almost toppled over.

“Lice! Victoria’s got lice!” 

Then she looked up and saw that everyone, the whole class including professor Stanley, was looking at her with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright disgust. Victoria felt how it began to tickle like she had a million critters creeping around in her hair.

“I… I better go,” She murmured and snatched up her stuff and threw it in her bag, then grabbed her coat and rushed out.

She ran directly over the hall to the ladies room. She locked herself in one of the toilets and started to prod through her hair at the mirror, but though it felt like her scalp was crawling with lice, she found not a single one. When Victoria was done searching, her long, permed and meticulously fixed hair was a total mess, but it itched and tickled just as much as it had done before. Where the hell were they?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

She tugged at her curly locks, but it only resulted in pain and a couple of loose wisps of hair. With chest heaving she glanced at the red-faced creature in the mirror with its hair on end and eyes round in panic, staring back at her. 

“Get a grip and calm down, Victoria. Your mind is fucking you over, that’s all.”

She sank down on the toilet lid to regain composure. After a while she felt somewhat better, but there was no way she would go back to class now. 

-

The snow was falling in big white flakes from a white grey sky when she came out from the university. It was a dreamlike experience, but Victoria barely acknowledged it. She hopped off the bus at Eccleston bridge to change to the Swankton line, but first she needed to make a stop by the drugstore. Se found one near at Victoria Street and had an awkward conversation with the pharmacist before she could continue homewards with a bottle of pyrethrin and instructions on how to use it. On her way back to the bus stop she passed Victoria station and found herself wandering around the platforms searching for a tall blonde girl in scuffed men’s clothes and a large Santa’s hat. 

Someone tapped her shoulder, and she spun around, her heart in her throat.

“Chloe!”

But it wasn’t. It was her occasional travel friend Dana from New York.

“Who’s Chloe?” She said and gave her a crooked smile.

“Oh, Dana, uh, hi.”

Behind Dana stood a girl Victoria had never seen before. She was shorter than both Dana and Victoria, and curvy, but she looked pleasant and neat. She had large brown eyes and a thick mane of auburn hair kept back by a headband that she somehow managed to not look like a preteen hairstyle. That thing was an impressive feat in Victoria’s opinion.

“Well,” Dana said with that irritatingly genuine smile she had, “Don’t tell me you’re on your way home too! Wouldn’t it be awesome if we were on the same flight again?”

“Oh, yeah. No, I’m just here to change bus.”

Dana looked confused.

“Here? In the tube station?”

“Yes, I mean, not exactly here. I don’t know what I’m doing here actually, I think I got lost.”

“Well lucky for me so I could wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year.”

“Yeah, thanks, merry Christmas to you too, Dana.” 

They gave each other a light hug. Dana moved to the side and gestured to her company.

“This is Millie, a friend of mine.”

“Hello Millie, pleased to meet you.”

Millie blushed but shook Victorias hand with a shy but polite smile.

She looked at the suitcases and rucksacks and shoulder bags they wore. “Leaving London for good?”

“Yes I am, actually. How did you know?“

“I heard about Julliard’s. Congrats, Dana, well deserved.”

“Thank you! Yes it’s a dream come true, so I’m super stoked. But I’ll miss London for sure. And the house.”

“Yeah, where were you living now? Did you have a house?”

“Uh-uh, we were a couple of girls from the academy who shared a house down on Spinner’s road. Millie here is moving out too, so there are two rooms free now. Do you know someone who needs a place to stay?”

To her own surprise Victoria heard her own mouth say:

“How about me?”

“You? But don’t you have one of those big fancy student apartments at Swankton? This house wouldn’t match that. You would have to do the cooking and cleaning yourself.”

“Yeah, but I kind of hate Swankton at the moment. It suffocates me, and its inhabitants, if you know what I mean.”

“I hear you,” Dana said with that annoyingly cute smile, “So, you want the address then?”

“Why not? Maybe I’ll check it out.”

“Good. You’ll love it there. And it’s girls only, so you won’t have to worry about creepy dudes sneaking into your room at night.”

Dana shot a peculiar glance at Millie. She ripped out a page from her Filofax and scribbled all over it before handing it over to Victoria.

“Here you go, and that’s my number in New York. Come and visit us anytime when you are back home. It’ll be fun.”

Victoria waved the note at her.

“Sure thing, Dana. And thanks.”

What had she meant by ‘us’? When they turned away Victoria noticed how Milly grabbed Dana’s hand and walking away close together the pair disappeared in the sea of people moving to and fro on the platform. Victoria shook her head, unsure if she had seen what she had thought she had. 

Are they a couple? Gross, but it was hard to not like Dana. She felt a stab in her gut of… Homesickness? Envy? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to go back to New York, not her version of New York, anyway. But when she saw Dana and Millie walk away, something hit her, something she had felt for a long time but first now could formulate for herself; London could be a lonely place. Victoria thought about Nathan waiting for her back home, and it made everything feel a bit better.

She looked at the slip of paper in her hand. It read; ‘ _Bushcrane house, Spinner’s road 51. Take the northern line towards Hampstead to Chalk Farm. Go right towards Haverstock Hill, then left. Say hi to Kate from me. Love, Dana._ ’ , then a N.Y. phone numer at the bottom.

Spinner’s road in Chalk Farm? She had never heard of it, and a commune didn’t feel like her thing at all. Probably full of unbearable artists, poseurs and dirty punks, and lesbians with ugly haircuts, and cleaning and cooking schedules and house meetings and mandatory dinners. She could imagine the intrigue and drama and, ugh… 

Victoria threw the note in the nearest waste basket.

* * *

It was afternoon when Victoria finally took the bus homewards. She had aimlessly walked the streets of central London hoping to catch a glimpse of Chloe somewhere, but to no avail, and now she returned to Swankton, cold, hungry and crestfallen. She needed to eat, drink, and to do something about this goddamned lice-problem, if there even was one. She hadn’t felt anything itching in her hair since the university, and that had probably been purely psychological. But as soon a she began thinking of it, she felt an urge to scratch her scalp again. Better get it done with.

When Victoria passed the Christmas-decorated lounge, the other girls sat and played a game of Monopoly. They looked at Victoria as she passed, then Corrie whispered something and they all giggled.

“What a _lousy_ thing to say!”

This time they all laughed aloud. Victoria’s cheeks burned when she stopped and stared them all down with her best cold smile.

“Playing with paper money, are we? Try owning some real streets sometime.”

No-one met her gaze. Instead they continued playing. 

“Soo rich,” Alyssa murmured. 

“Smells rich at least,” Corrine said, “Aaall the way to here.”

Vanna scrunched her nose.

“Yeah, _filthy_ rich.”

They laughed again. 

“Oh, poor little rich girl,” Corrine said as she threw the dice and moved her pawn over the board.

“Eat you spinach,” She continued in a perfect mock snooty voice. “Let me see your tongue. Oh my, what have you been _doing_ with that tongue?!”

Their cackling made Victoria’s blood boil. She wanted to throw a chair at them, but she was in enough trouble with Swankton as it was. Instead she stomped back to her room and slammed the door shut. It didn’t kept Corrine’s clear voice from carrying through when she sung in a loud childish Shirley Temple-esque voice; “Oh me, oh my, I’m so sad that I could cry. I’ve no-one to be gay with, that’s why I wear a frown…”

Although Victoria was famished, she didn’t leave her room for the rest of the evening. 

-

At midnight Victoria, hungry as a wolf, sneaked out in the kitchen and opened the fridge, but her food was nowhere to be found. In the party her shelf was all empty. She looked in the trash and found that it had been newly emptied. When she put back the lid on the trash can, Vanna came out in the kitchen in her nightgown.

“Oh, are you looking for your food? It’s not in the trash.” She gave ger a meaning smile. Victoria glared back at her. 

“Where the hell is it then?”

“I’m sorry, but it had gone bad so we had to throw it away.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything. Good night.”

“Wait. Do you have anything I can eat? I haven’t had anything today.”

“Sorry, I’m going home for Christmas tomorrow, so I have emptied everything. We all have.”

She gave her a thoughtful look. 

“I think there’s tea though. And sugar in the bowl.”

The tea in the tea box seemed okay, so she made a cup, and ladled in as much sugar from the fancy old china bowl as she dared, and she carefully carried the overfull cup back to her room while her tummy growled in hunger.

She took sip from the steaming brew and then immediately spitted it out. The tea was salty as the North Sea. She took another sip, but spitted out again. It was totally undrinkable. She emptied her cup in the toilet and went out in the kitchen again, fuming in anger. There was no-one anywhere, which wasn’t that strange considering it was well over midnight. She didn’t know what to do when alone like this. Usually she was the one in command. It was very different being on the other end. With a smirk she knew what to do. She went and fetched her lipstick. She knew a couple of doors that would look good with a little bit of rude graffiti on them.

-

After her deed Victoria fell asleep immediately, and had a strange dream. Giggling fairies were playing hide and seek in her hair, pulling it and tousling it. After a long period of playing, her hair was suddenly invaded by an army of big, scaly, many-legged monsters and the fairies flew away screaming.

With a yelp, Victoria opened her eyes. Her heart was racing after the bad dream, and she instinctively put a hand to her head. A big chunk of hair came loose in her fist. Smothering a scream, she sat up in bed and reached for her lamp with trembling fingers. Panting, she looked around in her bed. There were hair everywhere; on her pillow, on the sheets and on the floor, even; long locks of yellow curly-wavy hair. Her fucking hair!

With sobs of terror lurking in her throat she ran out in the bathroom to get a look in the mirror. What the hell had happened? Could it be something wrong with the lice-medicine that made her lose her hair? In the mirror as he sees that someone has cut her hair. She shrieks again when she saw it, she looked absolutely insane with large almost bald spots and long tufts hanging down here and there. Someone has written with her own lipstick on the mirror. 

“Shame.” 

Her scissor lies in the sink, tufts of blonde hair still there. 

Who could’ve dome it? Could only be one of two persons, Mrs Moore, and that was very unlikely, however unfriendly, or Alyssa, who had her spare key. Alyssa had made one grave miscalculation though, because Victoria also had _her_ spare key. She grabbed the scissor and found the key. Hissing in anger she ran out barefoot in the corridor, unlocked Alyssas door and turned on the lights. Alyssa was in bed on her tummy snoring, arms and legs spread, the blanket had almost slided off her and half of it was on the floor, but she sat up in bed with a confused look when Victoria stormed in. 

“I’m gonna kill you, you backstabbing bitch!”

Screaming, Alyssa tried to get out of bed, but Victoria grabbed her and pushed her back down.

“Look what you’ve done! You’ve destroyed my hair!”

Screaming, Alyssa struggled under her hands trying ro break free, but she was no match for Victoria who straddled her on the bed.

“They won’t come in time before I’m done with you, you traitor!”

Helpless, Alyssa continued to whimper and wriggle, but Victoria held her firmly in place with just one arm while she brought up the scissor to Alyssa’s head. Her hair rolls made it hard do do any real damage though. Victoria grabbed one of the rolls and pulled, and it made Alyssa yelp in pain. Victoria put the steel to a beautiful lock of thick dark hair and was ready to squeeze and see it come loose, but then she caught a glimpse of Alyssas frightened and tearful eyes, and she just couldn’t do it. Victoria didn’t recognised herself. A year ago she would’ve had no problems to give a girl everything she deserved and more, but now? Since when had she become so weak? With a loud curse she let go of Alyssa’s hair and threw away the scissor. It clanged down on the floor and skittered away, ending up somewhere under Alyssa’s desk. She leaned down over Alyssa, putting their faces close together. Victoria felt tears of anger burn in her eyes.

“You fucking cunt. I thought we were friends.”

Alyssa didn’t answer, she just cried and gulped for air between sobs.

The other girls stormed in, screaming. 

“Leave her alone, you maniac!” 

Then both of them burst out laughing.

“Oh my god! You look hilarious!”

Victoria couldn’t help but put a hand up to her hair.

Corrine took a step forward.

“Watch out so don’t get lice, Alyssa. You need to wash those sheets now, when you’ve had a dirty girl in your bed. Just like you, Vickie.”

Victoria stared at her.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t deny it.” Vanna said, “That girl Goldilocks slept in you bed.” 

“Goldilocks?”

“You know, ate your food, sat in your chair and slept I your bed, god knows what more she did in your bed.”

Corrine shook her head. 

“You really don’t belong here, you know. Everybody thinks so.”

“Rule-breaker,” Vanna said.

“Filthy girl,” Corrine filled in. 

“Slut.”

“Dyke.”

Alyssa sat up in bed with her hair in total disarray, but at least still attached to her head. 

“Everybody leave my room!” She shouted between the sobs. Corrine just crossed her arms.

“We won’t go until she does.”

“Yes, she’s dangerous.” Vanna siad, “She just tried to kill you!”

Alyssa brought up a trembling arm and pointed towards her door.

“Just… go!”

After a couple of seconds, they left, grumbling. They heard how the door slammed shut after them. Alyssa fell backwards in bed, crying even louder now, but Victoria had a hard time conjuring up any sympathy for her. After listening to her wailings for a while, she stretched out an open palm to her.

“I want my key back.”

“Me too,” Alyssa sniffled.

After they had exchange keys, Victoria glared at Alyssa.

“I never want to see you again. Don’t speak a word to me again, don’t sit beside me in class, don’t even look at me, understood?”

Alyssa opened her mouth to say something, but Victoria cut her short. 

“Not. A. Fucking. Word.”

They she picked up her scissor and left. 


	6. Chapter 6

The last exam of the year went to shit. Firstly, she had nothing to eat in the morning, and having not eaten since breakfast the day before except for a plain cup of tea. This morning, when she had gone the kitchen to make it, she had peeked into the fridge after any milk she could steal, she saw that someone had written ‘OOPS’ with the magnets on the fridge door. Victoria rearranged them into ‘FUCK’ instead, and sniggered in childish delight seeing the word in plain writing in this fancy establishment, and it was a fitting good bye message to the others. She had wanted to write ‘FUCK OFF’ but there weren’t enough of the unusually powerful magnets that they used to fasten notes and stuff on the refrigerator. She wondered where those magnets came from. She hated the standard weak fridge magnets that were barely able to hold up their own weight, even less a sheet of paper. This was clearly some heavy duty industrial sort. Maybe she could ask the janitor Mr Balwme about it.

She had crammed a chocolate bar on her way to uni, and it had lessened her hunger somewhat. At the university people gave her strange looks for wearing her knitted hat in the classroom. She had wound up the long parts offer hair in a hair tie under the hat, but it would’ve still been a nightmare if anyone had asked her to take it off. For once it was a good thing no-one cared about her. Still, it was impossible to concentrate on the essay and she found herself staring at Alyssas back two rows ahead, her inside alternating between cold rage and deep sadness. After less than an hour of exam time she couldn’t take it any more and rose up and left, leaving a blank paper on her desk. 

She went directly to the beautiful cafeteria down in the medieval-looking vaults in the university’s cellar, and ate two huge sandwiches and a muffin, and drank an innumerable amount of cups of coffee. The food and the calm surroundings made her feel a bit better. Normally the small cafeteria was jam-packed with students eating, drinking and chattering, but at half past ten in the morning she was the only one there. Victoria broke open a new pack of cigarettes and lit a smoke while she thought of what to do next. 

She didn’t want to stay at the university, and she didn’t want go back to Swankton until this evening when she was sure of that the other girls would have left for home. Then awaited two and a half weeks of cheery lonesome Christmas time until the term started again. Alyssa had said that she would stay over Christmas too, to keep Victoria company. Victoria had actually looked forward to that, but that was before. It would not happen now. At least she had all her VHS tapes that she had recorded herself off the TV at home for the last five years. She had Star Trek, MASH, Little house on the prairie, Columbo, Dallas, Love boat, and more, that she could watch. That big box of video tapes were probably one of her most prized possessions, and they had given her, and the rest of the girls at the dorm while they were still friends, hours upon hours of joy. She would never feel alone as long as she had those movies and tv-series at hand.

The most important thing she needed to fix was her hair. This close to Christmas every decent hair dresser would be fully booked, so she had to wait with that. And also she didn’t want to let anyone mess around with her hair while she still had cooties. It was alright, she wouldn’t see anyone except maybe the few tragic girls from the other corridors that also stayed over Christmas, but Victoria didn’t know any of them, not even by name, and she had not planned to attend the Christmas dinner down in the big dining hall so she hadn’t told Mrs Moore that she wanted to. And you had to, in writing, and four weeks ago. Maybe she could get a seat at the table if she asked nicely. The thought made her chuckle out loud. Fat chance. But she would have to have fixed her hair until then at least. But how? She was practically bald on several large spots all over her head, so the only solution would be to wear a wig, or shave all her hair off and look like a bloody skinhead. None of those alternatives were acceptable.

The second problem was to get somewhere to live. She couldn’t stay at Swankton Butte, that was clear. The obvious solution was to place a phone call to her dad and let him buy a place for her to live. He would probably even see it as an investment the way house prices had risen in London lately, thanks to Thatcher’s new economic politics. The problem was, she would hate to do that. Contrary to what she has told everyone, she hadn’t got all that much money. She had had an argument with her father and he had said if she went here, she would be on her own. And she said, sure, I’ll be on my own, I don’t need your fucking money to succeed in this world. Just wait and see. So, calling back less than six months later and beg for help, to het her out of this conundrum that is all ny her own making, it just wouldn’t cut it. Not while she still have some pride left in her. And right now, pride was all that she had left. She’ll have to work this out by herself. And her bank account has been dwindling steadily over the last months. She would have to cut down on the spending somehow. She started to make a list of things and what they cost. Except for the tutoring, rent was the next biggest chunk. And almost as big as the college fee. Swankton was expensive! Next item on the list was probably food. She ate out or takeaway almost every day of the week. So maybe she could start to cook her own food instead of eating out in the evenings. One nagging little detail though; she hated to cook. And nagging little detail two; she seriously sucked at it.

Had she really thrown away the adress to that place where Dana had stayed? It would sure come in handy now, Maybe it would be worth a try at least if she only could remember the address. And of course Dana’s phone number had been on the same paper, so she couldn’t call her and ask. How stupid could a girl be? Apparently not much more than her. She felt a better future hovering just ahead of her, but she was just letting it slip through her finger time after time again, going the wrong way at every turn. Anyhow, she couldn’t sit here on her thumb anymore. Victoria put out her cigarette and rose. 

* * *

Of course she ended up on the bus down to the streets around Victoria station again, and of course she wandered around aimlessly, hoping to run into Chloe. And of course she didn’t. It was a futile hope. London was huge, about eight million people, and the chance of running into Chloe would be one in a million, or maybe one in eight millions? Math had never been her strong side. She felt like a stupid little girl who had spent all her savings on lottery tickets at the fair, convinced she would win big, but the more tickets she ripped open, the more her mood sank as she realised that she wouldn’t win even a keyring. And maybe that big prize wasn’t more than a cheap stuffed animal anyway, so everything had been a fools errand from the get go. With heavy heart Victoria directed her feet towards a bus stop that would take her back to Swankton.

On the crowded christmassy street crossing by Westminster chapel she passed an elderly man wearing a pair of cracked glasses waving around a tin cup and begging for money. He was yapping and chatting with every passersby and seemed to have a good time despite people mostly ignoring him and his precarious situation. Hopeful, Victoria looked around for Chloe, but saw nothing. But still. Something popped up in her head. Maybe she was making this much more complicated than it had to? Maybe she just had to… Promptly she turned around and walked up to the bent little man. He was missing almost every tooth in his mouth.

“Excuse me,” she said, “I’m looking for a girl, my age and size, well, slimmer actually, long blonde hair. Her name is Chloe. Have you seen her?”

“I’m very flattered, I’m very flattered. Name’s Toady by the way.”

“Hello hello Mister Toby. So, have you seen her?”

“It’s Toady, like in the animal, you know? Rubbit - rubbit.”

“Ah, I see. So?”

I don’t know everyone and their whereabouts in this town. It’s a big town! But I’m very flattered that you think so, lass.”

“But she’s a b-, uh, homeless, like you, so I thought you maybe knew her or had seen her?”

He peered up at her with reshot eyes almost drowning in gray folds of old skin.

“Does she owe you money?”

“No, not at all. We’re friends.”

“Oooo, friends!” He said and nodded knowingly as if he knew all about this esoteric and rare phenomenon. “In my experience your closest friends are the ones most capable of hurting you, am I not right?”

Victoria shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess, but we’re not that close actually.”

“Aha, well then. Her name was Chloe, did you say? And she was just as pretty as you?”

“Prettier. Please tell me you’ve seen her.”

He smiled sadly and shook his head. 

“I have not, I’m afraid. I surely I would’ve remembered if I had. If my memory wasn’t so flaky… Iv’e begun to forget things, you see, like last Wednesday when Pokey-”

“Aright, alright, thank you for your time.”

Victoria patted him on his bony shoulder and began to move away in the stream of people walking by. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t of more assistance,” the old beggar shouted after her, “But you could always ask the doughnut lassies down at Rochester Row. They might’ve seen’er.”

Victoria turned to the old man again.

“The doughnut lassies?”

The old man almost shrank under her intense stare.

“You know, the army?” He fumfered and fidgeted, “With their hats and coats and everything. The, uh, soldiers of Christ?”

It took a second for Victoria to get it.

“Oh, the Salvation Army! Thats a really good idea, thank you!”

Full of new energy Victoria rushed away, then she halted, cursed and hasted back to where the old man still stood staring after her at the street corner. 

“I am sorry, Mister Toady, my turn to be absent minded. Merry Christmas.”

He looked surprised at the five pound note she put in his cup, then he whisked off his old worn Gatsby cap and bowed so low his long oily grey hair fell down in his face.

“Bless you, child, bless you. I wish you the merriest of Christmases, and good luck finding your friend.”

It wasn’t that far to the Salvation army’s office, but Victoria’s tender feet made her walk a lot slower than she wished. A small bell chimed merrily as she entered the small reception. The room was empty so Victoria walked up to the desk and waited. Everything smelled of smoke, tea and wet fabric. Soon a round woman in a marine blue army coat and skirt appeared from another door. She peered questioningly at Victoria, probably because she didn’t look like their usual clientele.

“Yes, love? What can I do for you?”

Victoria cleared her throat, hoping this wouldn’t get awkward.

“Yes, well, I am looking for a girl of my age and height. Blonde. He name is Chloe. I don’t have a surname. Do you know her?”

The woman gave her a blank stare.

“Sorry, can’t say I do. She works here?” 

“No, she’s homeless actually, and I thought…”

“Oh. Oh I see.”

The woman furrowed her brow in thought.

“A young blonde woman… I don’t think I have seen anyone that fits that description that I can remember.“

The disappointment on Victoria’s face must’ve been apparent, because the woman looked back with pity in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, love. I can ask around if you like. Come back here in a couple of days and I might know more, alright?”

She pointed at a big handwritten placard on the wall behind her.

“And if you find your friend, tell her about our community Christmas lunch next week. It’s open for everyone, you know.”

She gave her a meaningful look, and Victoria shrugged in answer.

“Thank you, but I don’t think–”

The woman handed over a small flyer with the same info as the sign on the wall.

“Take this anyway, love,” She said and winked, “You are very much welcome too, if you are alone over Christmas.”

Victoria gave her a strange look. How the hell could she know? Anyhow, she was definitely not going to a crowded feeding together with smelly bums and other misfits of society. But, before she left, she took the flyer anyway and put it in her purse. Maybe she could give it to Mister Toady if she stumbled upon him again. 


	7. Chapter 7

It was very quiet when Victoria returned to Swankton later in the evening. Almost everyone had left for home, and even Mrs Moore was nowhere to be found. Not that Victoria searched her out or anything, she was glad she didn’t bumped into Mrs Moore anywhere, or anybody else for that matter. Still, the stairs and corridors seemed to echo with a melancholic emptiness that she hadn’t noticed before, and it made her wonder, mostly jokingly, if there were ghosts here. She could understand if some student had killed themselves in despair while living here at some point in time. This had been a student housing since the early fifties, and before that it had been a war hospital and sanatorium, Victoria had read somewhere. So there were probably a lot of people who had died all around these rooms and halls, actually. Even though Victoria wasn’t superstitious at all, thinking about it gave her the chills. 

Her dorm corridor was dark and silent as a grave when she hasted through it. The Christmas tree was unlit, but she plugged it in and it made the room lit up with its tangle of coloured lights and her mood immediately changed to the better.

Back in her room, Victoria fed the heater with some coins from her coin cup. It was almost empty, so she had to get some change for it soon, or she would be out of hot water and using the big boxy payphone out in the phone booth by the kitchen. She bathed and treated her puny strands of hair with the pyrethrin again. It had a vague acetone smell to it, but else it wasn’t so bad. She had combed through her hair multiple times already and except that first lice she hadn’t found any more of them, so hopefully she was in the clear now.

After she had rinsed her hair thoroughly she stood nude and shivering while she emptied the bathtub and filled it up again, this time with extra hot water. She lit the candle that she kept it on a little table beside her, and turned off the ceiling light. Then she stepped down into the steaming tub and let herself be submerged. The heat pinched her skin all over her body and made her heart beat a bit faster. She gave out a little moan of both pleasure and pain. The hot water was right there on the edge, exactly where she wanted it. Victoria laid back and closed her eyes with a sigh of satisfaction. Then a picture of another nude blonde girl splashing around in her bathtub emerged in front of here eyes. Chloe. Embarrassed, Victoria tried to think of something else, but it was impossible. Every train of thought inevitable led back to that smiling mouth, big blue eyes and pale, slender body with its pink nipples and fuzzy triangle of pubic hair that she had glimpsed through the water. To imagine that had been just two days ago. Victoria wondered if Chloe had touched herself while in the bath. A hot bath was Victoria’s favourite place to do it, and Chloe would’ve had plenty of time for that while Victoria was in the laundry room that day. Thinking of Chloe touching herself right there in her bathtub made Victoria feel ashamed. But it also made her strangely excited. Without realising it, her hands had left their resting places on the sides of the bathtub and searched down to her thighs and in between her legs, all by themselves. The burning of the water in conjunction with the burning sensation in her sex and the burning thoughts in her mind made it impossible to resist.

The orgasm was surprisingly strong and she couldn’t help but yelp out loud when she came. Panting, Victoria lay still in the bathtub, waiting for her heart to slow its beating and her mind to stop spinning. The lingering feeling was shame; normally she didn’t loose control like this when she masturbated. She usually got the job done and that was that. This had been something else entirely. Then the guilt set in. What had she done? She felt dirty. Filthy, just as the others had said she was. She had a boyfriend thank you very much. But it felt like she had been unfaithful to Nathan, and worst of all, it also felt like a betrayal of Chloe’s trust. She had promised after all, even if this was only in her mind. The whole thing made Victoria feel disgusted with herself. She tried enjoy the hot bath, but soon the feeling of self-loathing overwhelmed her. She had to get up and think of something else. 

She had one go-to trick that always worked when she felt bad, and it was her collection of videotapes. Watching them she could forget about everything and just immerse herself in the stories and worlds of Little House On The Prairie and Star Trek.

Still dripping wet, she went out in the TV-room and put on the big Television set and Video player. She picked up a tape with the first shows of Star Trek, season one. They were just perfect if you wanted to escape the current world and dream of a better one, even if her father had deemed to be blatant communist propaganda and her mother had said was not good education for young girls, though she admitted that William Shatner that played Captain Kirk was handsome. Victoria herself was more of a Spock fan. Anyway, they would have to pry those tapes from her cold dead hands. 

She put the tape in the VCR and pressed play. The TV-screen filled with static. With a scrunched brow she walked up to the Video player and pressed fast forward for a couple of seconds, then play again. Still static.

“What the hell?”

She ejected the tape and looked at the magnetic film on the spool. This should be right at the beginning. Why was there no picture? Was there something wrong with the VCR? She looked at the cables and but everything seemed alright. She fetched the tape that someone had forgot in the player and pressed play. It was that old Shirley Temple movie they had watched a couple of days ago and it played just fine with a picture clear as day. She ejected it and put in season two of Star Trek. The tv screen was filled with static. A hard knot formed in her tummy as she ejected the second tape and put in another one and pressed play. Static. 

“What’s fucking happening?” 

She tried a tape with MASH. Static. With rising panic, fighting tears, she tried all the tapes in her big box. When she had gone through them all and found out that each and everyone of them was either completely demagnetised or in such a bad shape that they were unwatchable, she sat silent in the TV room surrounded by a sea of naked VHS-casettes and their covers. They had done this to her. Somehow the fucking cunts had destroyed all her tapes. 

For the first time in a very long time, she cried, with deep, suppressed, snivelling sobs. 

She had had it coming. Oh man, she had had it coming for so long. And she deserved every bit of it. This was payback for when she locked Janice in the gym storage back in seventh grade, so she missed her first and consequently only cheerleader performance. Poor Janice had been so happy to front the cheerleader team. Now Victoria had to jump in and take her place on the big day. Or, back in sixth grade, when she had switched out that brown-nose Lexie’s Christmas present to teacher Mrs Raadhofven to a razor because Mrs Radhofven had a pretty pronounced lady’s-moustache. Lexie sure wasn’t the most popular girl in class after that, and had promptly been called to the principal. Lexie came to school with eyes red from crying for weeks after. Or when she had poured a little bit of Vodka into Cas and Rhona’s soft drinks that hot clean-the-neighbourhood day. Instead of winning the pick the most garbage competition, they fell asleep on a sunny lawn and was found much later by truant officer Malcolm, and If they hadn’t been saved by their rich and powerful moms and dads they would surely have been expelled. Victoria still remembered their faces that had been burned a toasty red in the stark sun. In highschool Victoria had done so much bad stuff that she, at the time, had thought necessary or just plain fun, and she had always gotten away with it.

Somehow she had graduated magna cum laude, because everyone just knew she was smart. If ‘everyone’ had known the tricks and shenanigans she had pulled to make that happen, and all the help she had had, they would’ve been astounded. And she had had the largest group of friends too, except that was just what everyone assumed. In reality she had had no close friends, just an admittedly huge entourage of yes-women, sycophants and time-servers, and it had been heartbreakingly lonely at the top. Victoria thought back on all the dirty tricks, foul-play and outright mean thing she had done. Oh how she loathed herself, and how she deserved this. Leaving for London had been a way to get away from everything, to start anew, but it hadn’t worked. Why? Because it wasn’t possible to run from oneself, and she was obviously a pathetic, antipathetic and deeply flawed human being, incapable of doing anything good, or even being liked, even less loved. Just ask her parents, or her sister. The bitter truth, a truth that she should’ve been able to see years ago if she really had been that smart, was that she wasn’t worth loving, or even liking. 

With numb hands Victoria dried her wet cheeks and rose. Like a living dead she stumbled away from the TV room and towards her student apartment, leaving the VHS-tapes as they were.

-

It was like a veil had been lifted from her eyes, and she saw everything as it really was. Her tawdry room, full of petty, unnecessary things; the tasteless art, her gaudy, ill-fitting clothes and accessories, the silly trinkets from silly memories. They had all cost a lot of money, for sure, but to her they weren’t worth much. She glanced at her record collection that she was so proud of, boastful of, even; just a big waste of time and money she didn’t have, collected to impress visitors that never came. 

Heavily, Victoria sat down on her bed. She noticed the guitar leaning towards the wall to the side, another of her failed projects, and in a flash she saw Chloe sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her, strumming it and smiling. But she willed it away. It hurt to think about Chloe. How foolish had she been to think she could buy friendship like that? Victoria had thoroughly enjoyed that evening and night, but it had all been built on false premises. As had everything in her life, up to now.

Victoria went to the window where Chloe had climbed in a couple of days ago and opened it. The air that rushed in was chilly and full of whirling ice crystals, but not as chilly and prickly as her inside. She stuck her head out and let her crazy hair dangle freely in the wind. What was the point in hiding it now? There was no-one here, and besides, she was as ugly on the inside as on the outside, if not more. Victoria felt a jolt in her tummy as she leaned out a bit more and peered down on the yard below. Wonder if she would die if she fell? Or if she would just break her neck and have to spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair, tied to various apparatuses to keep her alive? She would probably be less of a nuisance to everyone that way, but it was nothing she wished. The point was to be of no nuisance at all, to anyone, including herself. She turned and peeked up towards the tall clock tower that rose above the roof. Was it possible to get up there? It must stand at least a hundred feet tall. No-one could survive a drop like that. 

-

Incredibly enough, the door to the tower wasn’t locked. After a bit of pushing and showing, it creaked open with a sound directly borrowed from some old cheesy monster flick. The narrow spiral stone-stair up the tower wasn’t heated, and soon her bare feet were numb. The truth was, all of Victoria felt numb, from the inside out. The cold when she pushed up the trapdoor to the roof punched the air out of her. The snow wasn’t as thick up here as on the ground because the constant wind blew it away, but it still reached her ankles. In the middle of the tower the tall flag pole and its empty flag line sung and pattered in the wind in a fateful chorus, making her feel like she was on a boat at sea. And the view! This would be the perfect place to sneak away to and have a couple of beers and fool around with friends during summer time. Provided you had any.

Swankton Butte lay on a small hill that made it rise over the surrounding houses, and the height of the tower made it possible to see all the way to London city. Its intricate lights spread out against a backdrop of darkening sky was truly a feast for the eyes. Somehow it calmed her, but it didn’t weaken her resolution. She couldn’t stand still and admire the scene for long, lest she would be frozen in place in minutes. If she was to get anything done, Victoria had to get going. She shuffled to the edge of the tower. There was no rail or fence or anything to hinder people from falling, just some large ornamented merlons put there for show, with wide gaps between them. Victoria guessed last century’s architects weren’t as concerned with safety as with style.

She stopped close to where the roof ended. She didn’t dare to look down or maybe she wouldn’t have the guts to do this. Instead she stared up in the sky. Very few stars were visible; only the ones powerful enough to not be chased away by the nightlight of London town. Stars were truly lonely travellers through space and time, but in their loneliness they shared a kind of companionship, and at this last moment Victoria felt that she was part of that. She looked up at them, and they looked back down at her, no more than a speck of dust in the universe, not judging her for who she was, what she had done or what she was about to do. It comforted her. Victoria took a deep breath and put on feet out. Then reality hit her. What the hell was she doing? Was life just a game for her? And talking to the stars? Could you be a more pathetic moron than that.

With a sigh Victoria turned to step away from the edge when a hard gust of wind blew her off balance. As her feet began to slip, she reached out to steady herself but her clutching hand missed the brown stone structure by mere millimetres. She couldn’t regain balance.

“Oh fuck.”

With flailing arms she fell backwards out into the dark night. 

* * *

Victoria landed hard on snow and stone. At first she couldn’t breathe, and her whole world was only pain. With rising panic she tried to move her arms and legs, but contrary to her fears they all worked just fine. Then her eyes managed to focus and saw the big round clock above her, and the crenellated roof of the tower just beyond it. She hadn’t fallen more than maybe fifteen feet and had landed, flat on her back, on the snowy little parapeted balcony that surrounded the tower like a collaret around its square, one-eyed head. Oh, fuck… She couldn’t even manage to jump from a roof properly, or not jumping off a roof, if that was what she wanted. Victoria groaned in self-pity, then she started to giggle until her chest ached. This was so completely idiotic and silly that there wasn’t much else to do but laugh. When she had calmed down she lay still and stared up in the night sky. The silent stars were still there, but they seemed to sparkle with a new beauty she hadn’t seen before. It seemed she had gotten a second chance. She could just as well have been lying crushed in a patch of red snow down there as being alive up here. Victoria had nothing more to lose, and every second in he life from now on was kind of bonus time. As a thought it was incredibly freeing. She was alive, it was only her old life that had died tonight. Now begun a new life, right? And she could do whatever the hell she wanted with it. Victoria sat up in the snow and stretched like she just had woken up from a long sleep. She dusted off the snow and painstakingly got up to try and find a way down, because now she was cold, cold, cold! Her body left a sprawling snow angel after her when she rose. Victoria turned and looked back at her shape in the snow and gave it a skewed smile. So, the queen was dead. Long live the queen. 

Then she felt a chill between her legs and her smile disappeared. She looked down at her crotch. Damn, she had peed her pants.


	8. Chapter 8

Victoria didn’t remember how she got to her room, but somehow she found a way into the tower and down the stairs again. She went straight to he bed, got out of her cold wet clothes and fell asleep immediately. When she woke up, daylight shone through her windows. Normally she always got up early, even on a free day, because one thing that successful people had in common was that they where early birds that used all the hours of the day to be productive; working out, studying and bettering themselves in some way or another. Fuck that shit. Victoria stretched out in her queen size bed and stared lazily at the roof with her hands behind her head. Her back still ached some, but it was more of a dull pain that didn’t bother her too much. A weekend of hard competitive swimming left her much more crippled than this. Maybe she should go for a swim today? 

She turned to the side and looked at the clock on her bedside table. It was over ten in the morning, which meant she had slept for more that twelve hours straight. That was an impressive feat of laziness. So if this was her new life it was time to make it count. She definitely needed to make some changes. First of all she would get away from this place. Maybe not today, but at least before the others returned from their Christmas leave. It would be difficult to find a new place to live that quick, especially over Christmas, but it couldn’t be impossible. A hotel was out of the question, it was too expensive. A hostel maybe? She would hate that. If she only could remember the address Dana had given her. She could stay at that crazy house until she found something better, or maybe she would even like it there, who knew? There would be no more preconceptions, she decided, instead she would do her best to judge everything on their own merits. Victoria scrunched her brow trying to remember at least the street name, but nothing came to her. Instead she yawned and reached to pluck a string on the guitar. It rang out in the silent room, making all sorts of memories come back to her. This guitar would be a perfect Christmas gift for someone. Then and there she decided she would find Chloe and give it to her, whatever it took. And she hoped they could be friends for real. But friends only. Whatever silly feelings Victoria had for Chloe, she had promised her. It was a friend’s promise, something she didn’t take lightly. 

Victoria feel a lot better about everything after deciding that. Earlier she hadn’t been sure about if she really wanted her and Chloe to be friends, with everything that she felt and whatnot, and it had pained her because though they had only met for a couple of hours Victoria thought of her every day. 

She got up from bed and went out in the kitchen and ate a late breakfast without getting properly dressed. She was the only one there, so why bother with clothes. Victoria wondered if this was how she would live from now on. She pictured herself as grey and crooked, and old spinster in her night garments, slurping her coffee and bowl of breakfast in a sunlit kitchen, hopefully satisfied with her life choices.

She dropped the spoon in her bowl so milk and cereals spattered all over the table. Spinster? It rang a bell. It definitely rang a bell. Wasn’t that the address to that house? Spinster street? No, Spinster road? Victoria stood up and rushed back to her room and grabbed the last coins from her coin cup, then ran back to the kitchen, and threw herself down on the stool in the phone booth. With trembling fingers she slotted in the coins and lifted the heavy mouthpiece from its hook and dialed. Soon a lady’s voice sounded.

“London city taxi service.”

“Hello,” Victoria answered, her mouth suddenly dry, “I’d like a cab to, uh, Spinster road, please?” 

It was silent at the other end.

“Hello?”

Victoria shook the mouthpiece.

“Hello? Is this working?”

The silence dragged on.

“Hello, “ The voice said back, “I’m sorry, I had to check, but I can’t find any address by that name. Is this in London?”

“Yes,” Victoria said, feeling her mood drop. She had been so sure about the address.

“Do you know which area?” The lady said.

What had the note said? She tried to picture Dana’s flamboyant handwriting over the lined paper. Spinsters road in something something? Victoria’s felt how her brain went into overdrive. She… almost… had it…

“Umm, it was, like a farm I think. Church farm?”

“Chalk farm, maybe?”

Victoria jolted upright on the stool.

“Yes! It’s Chalk farm!”

“Can it be Spinner’s road you are thinking of, then? It sounds pretty–” 

“Yes! That’s it! Thank you! I want to go there now, please!”

She could almost hear the woman smile at the other end.

“No problem, miss, we’ll make sure you’ll get there. Which address are you on?”

Victoria told her the adress and her name in an as calm voice as possible, but on the inside she was screaming with joy.

“Okay, miss, we’ll have car there in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you so much!”

“You are so welcome, miss, and have a grand day now.”

Now she had fifteen minutes to clean herself up, get some makeup on, get dressed and get her hair in order somehow. She could do it.

The quick splash of water, the makeup and the clothes were no problems, but the hair was another cup of tea. Victoria stood in front of her bathroom mirror, scissor in hand, and stared at her very strange hairdo hanging in tufts around her head. She had to make a good first impression if she would have a chance to that room, and this wasn’t cutting it. So she had to cut it herself. She had brought her alarm clock so she wouldn’t lose track of time, and it showed that she had five minutes to do this. No point in waiting, in other words. Victoria put the scissor to her hair and began to cut, clip and snip it off. She had to cut it really short, les than an inch, and as she progressed she was surprised to see how not completely awful it looked. The one annoying thing was a big cowlick at the back of her head that just wouldn’t stay down, and being already late for the cab, she combed her fingers through her hair and let it all stand straight up instead. She gave herself a look in the mirror again and nodded. It looked cheeky, a bit crazy even, but it could actually work. She was brought back to reality when the cab honked its horn for the second time down at the yard. Damn, damn, damn.

“I’m coming!” She yelled as she ran towards her door, though it was of course no chance that the taxi driver could hear her. Grabbing her hat and coat, she spurted out in the hall and flew down the stairs to the waiting car.

* * *

The taxi dropped her off in the middle of an empty winding street with rows of tall brownish brick houses on both sides. They all looked identical, with identical and abysmally small front gardens. This area had probably been fancy once upon a time, but that was obviously a while ago. Still, it looked nice and friendly in a way that newly built houses never could. The street was lined with low drystone walls overgrown with ivy and was overshadowed by tall buckeye trees reaching up against the white sky that added to the feeling of timelessness. These large trees must’ve stood here for a hundred years. Their empty branches were covered in thick layers of swelling snow, and snow fell from the sky in large, soft flakes that landed and melted on her upturned face. When Victoria stood there, looking up and down the street and wondering what to do next, an old couple came walking laboriously, arm in arm. They looked like a pair of ancient grey mice, with wisps of white hair sticking out from under their large hats, and their long noses were pink with cold. Victoria was a head taller than both them. The couple smiled and nodded at her as they passed, and Victoria nodded back. Then she turned and walked up to the couple again.

“Excuse me, I’m a little lost. Do you know in which house the, uh, students live?”

“Oh yes,” the man said and nodded vigorously, “ That would be the number 52, down that way. The ‘cat house’ as we call it.”

“It’s the 51, dear,” The woman said and glanced meaningfully at her man, “And we really don’t call it that.”

The man squinted his eyes.

“I’m very sure it’s the number 52, and we DO call it the cat house.”

The old woman sighed and turned to Victoria. 

“They are all very nice, the students. We don’t mean to offend.”

Victoria shrugged.

“None taken I’m sure. So it’s this way?” 

She pointed up the street from where the couple had come.

The woman nodded. 

“Yes, love, number 51. To the left.”

“Thank you so much.”

They turned and walked away while the the old man mumbled to his wife, “I’m _sure_ it’s the number 52.”

“Yes, dear,” The old woman answered, “She’ll find her way. She looked like a girl who can take care of herself, didn’t she?”

It was only a quick walk to number 51. Or 52, it was just on the other side of the street. A short stair led up to a green door where a neat Christmas garland in deep green hanged. The door was in a lighter green and pretty banged up. A brass mail drop grinned an askew and toothless grin at her. If it wasn’t for that Dana had recommended this place, she would’ve turned and left at this very moment. Or maybe not. No preconceptions, she told herself, but still she didn’t ring the doorbell. 

“Chicken,” she mumbled to herself and put her finger to the cold golden button. Then she pressed. 

After a coupe of tries, Victoria conclude that the doorbell didn’t work and resorted to knocking. After quite a while she heard shuffling footsteps from the other side, then the door opened half-way to reveal a blonde girl with her hair in a bun on top of her head. She was wiping her hands on a rag while looking over Victoria from top to bottom. She was clad in plain but good-looking clothes. She didn’t look suspicious, but more inquiring, and intrigued.

“Yes?” She said. Her voice was clear and very British.

“Hello, my name is Victoria,” Victoria said, feeling awkward. This girl wasn’t at all what she had expected. “I’m, uh, I’m here about a room?” 

The girl squinted at her, but said nothing. She seemed rather perplexed.

“I’m a friend of Dana Ward,” Victoria continued.

“Oh, I see.”

The girl smiled. Although she was kind of plain faced her smile was warm, and very pretty. 

“I see. Come in. I’m working right now, but we can talk anyway.”

She reached out a slim hand to Victoria. It smelled faintly of some kind of solvent.

“I’m Kate. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Victoria took her hand and shook it, still not able to shake her awkwardness. 

“Likewise, uh, I mean about the acquaintance thing. I’m Victoria.”

The girl nodded and smiled.

“Yes, you mentioned that.” 

The girl, Kate, led her into a small hall with doors everywhere, and a small antique table with bowed legs and with big black phone on top that looked like it was from the last century on a small table. The wallpaper was full of probably hand-painted roses and pretty cute, but also pretty worn. 

“This way, please,” Kate said and gestured to the narrow stair.

“I’m sorry for being so slow, but Dana and Millie moved out just a couple of days ago, and here you are, asking for a room. I haven’t told anyone about that we were looking for boarders, but I should’ve understood you were Dana’s friend. Are you from New York too?”

A friend was stretching it, but it would do little to further her case to reveal that. 

“Sure I am, how could you tell?”

“You talk the same way, and I don’t mean American.”

“We do?”

Victoria hadn’t thought of herself talking in any special way at all.

Kate nodded.

“So, you’re at uni, right?” What are you studying?”

“International finance.”

“Oh, really? Splendid. I’m an art student, and Dana and Millie studied music, as you surely know. It has been quite a lot of arty-farty discussions here, so maybe its time for a change?”

Victoria wasn’t sure that Kate really meant what she was saying. Often it was damn impossible to tell if the Brits where genuinely friendly or silently mocking you. She decided to hedge her bet.

“Yeah, sorry, I play a bit of the piano, but I couldn’t sketch for my life.”

“I play too! We got a piano downstairs but it needs some tuning. But it works, if you want to tickle the ivories.”

“Uh, yeah, okay.”

Tickle the ivories? From which part of the century was this Kate? They came up on the landing and into a hall with four doors. Five, if you wanted to be strict, but the fifth one was probably a closet or something, because it was about half the width of the other doors. Three doors stood in a row on the long side. Kate pointed to them. 

“Those two rooms are free. And that’s my room.”

Looking at the placement of the doors, Kate’s room, the closest to the right, seemed to be double the size of the other two. Kate went and opened the leftmost door and Victoria followed. The room was empty except for a bed and a desk and chair, with a nice big bay window facing a snowy backyard. Definitely smaller than her apartment at Swankton, but it wasn’t that small and complete liveable. It had a cute medallion wallpaper, two built in closets and an alcove. A lush green cocklestove sat in one of the corners. 

“This is Dana’s old room.” Kate said as she stopped in the middle of the floor and swung around. “It’s great in the summer and the room I would choose if I didn’t already have mine.”

Victoria went over to the large semicylindrical stove and put a hand on its smooth, cold, glazed surface. 

“Does this work?”

“Oh yes, it does, and it’s needed. Those big windows make this room pretty cold in the winter, but they’re worth it, I promise. Do you like it?”

Victoria looked around.

“I do. This room is fu– uh, freaking awesome.”

Kate nodded, like to say ‘told you so’.

“I’ll show you the next room too,”She said, “Then I’ll need to get back to work.”

They went out in the hall and opened the middle door and peeked in. The room was not as fancy, with a regular window facing the next house in the row, but it was not bad either. It also had a tiled stove.

“And this was Millie’s room, though I think they mostly used it for storage the last couple of months.”

“Storage?”

“Well, as they both slept in Dana’s room.”

Kate gave her a look.

“You did know that, didn’t you?”

Victoria cleared her throat before answering.

“That they are a couple? Uh, of course.”

They closed the door and went to the third door, the one that led to Kate’s room.

“I have a model here, I hope you don’t mind.” Kate said as she gave a short knock on her door before turning the knob. “I need to make use of the little light there is.”

Victoria had no idea what she was talking about. Then she did.

Kate’s room was huge compared to the other two, probably larger than the other two rooms combined. It had a bay window at one end facing out to the street and it was flowing with bright daylight. The walls were covered in bookshelves with books, but also many other different kinds of stuff, mostly artist’s stuff, but also a couple of violin cases. Her sleeping quarter was placed behind a row of bookshelf in a corner, but the rest of the room was just a big studio with two drawing tables, a couple of easels of different shapes and sizes, and paintings. Everywhere, in rows along the wall, hanging on the wall, half done, completed or just blank canvases waiting to be started; some large, some small, and some huge. A paint-spattered mat covered the floor by the window, and on it a kind of cloth-covered platform was built. In the window a red-haired girl in a dressing gown sat reading a book, but she put it down her when they entered.

“I’m sorry you had to wait,” Kate said to the girl as she grabbed a grey artists’s smock from a hook by the door and put it on, “This is Victoria, she’s looking to rent one of the rooms here. We will be talking while I paint, if that’s okay with you?”

The girl rose. Victoria could see all the way from where she stood by the door that she was beautiful.

“No problems”, she said in a peculiar singing accent that Victoria thought must be Irish. “I would have been more concerned if it had been a bloke. I think my acushla machree would get a wee bit cross then.”

She met them halfway in the room and reached out a pale, freckled hand. Her eyes were a deep green, and her mischievous smile made Victoria blush, though she had no idea why.

“I’m Rachel, pleased to meet ya.”

“Victoria,” Victoria mumbled as she shook Rachel’s hand awkwardly, “I really didn’t mean to intrude…”

“Nah, it’s no bother,” She answered as she stepped away towards the small dais. “At least not for me.”

Victoria followed her with her eyes.

“Are you also an art student?”

Rachels dark red eyebrows rose high on her brow. 

“Feck no! I can’t see the difference between this so called fine art and a porno for all the world. I am in it purely for the dosh.”

Rachel turned to Kate who stood by a table collecting a couple of brushes and a large palette full with smears of differer colors. Kate looked up and nodded, and with a swift movement, Rachel undid the rope around her waist and let the dressing gown fall to her feet and, all in the nude, she stepped up on the podium and lay down. She was lying on her side, with one knee knee bent upwards and a hand on her white belly. Victoria stared at Rachel’s what she considered perfect shapes, and she couldn’t avoid noticing that the hair between Rachel’s legs and under her arms where of a dark, rust red hue, and that her shoulders and neck where mottled with a spray of delicious freckles.

“Okay?” Rachel asked.

Kate nodded in satisfaction.

“Perfect, it’s exactly as before. You’re really good for being a beginner model, Rachel.”

Rachel grinned.

“I’m happy to be good at something, even if it’s only to lay still on a pillow.”

“Well, it’s harder than you think.”

Kate glanced at Victoria, who had been staring in silence at Rachel for a while now.

“Victoria, take that chair and sit here.”

She gestured at her side, and Victoria complied. Kate began to apply swaths of paint and smearing out on the canvas into shapes that vaguely resembled Rachel. She glanced over her shoulder to Victoria.

“So, what do you think?”

Victoria looked back.

“I think it will be a fantastic painting.”

Kate gave her a warm, albeit a bit crooked, smile.

“Thank you for the confidence. What I really meant was; what to you think of the room?”

“Oh…” Victoria felt how she blushed,”Of course. I would very much like to have it. If you would have me?”

Kate took a lump of red paint from the palette and began to mush it out in a large spot to the left in broad strokes. Then she applied some streaks of white, gold and bluish-green to it. Victoria saw that it would probably become Rachel’s mane of a hair. Kate’s face was a mask of concentration, then she looked back att Victoria and nodded. 

“Alright. It’s yours.”

“What? Just like that?”

“Yes, I trust Dana, and I trust my own judgement.”

Victoria felt strangely moved. Both Kate and Dana though that she was a good person. At least good enough to live with. She would not disappoint them. The only words that came out was a meek: “Thank you.”

“We only have a couple of rules here,” Kate continued, “We vote on all importan stuff. We put money in the jar when we use the phone, we wash the dishes after us, clean up when we have made a mess and don’t let clothes lie and get sour in the washing machine. And we have a big cleaning day in the spring and one in the fall and one before Christmas. Else we all clean when it’s needed. And, most importantly, we talk to each other.” 

Kate let her gaze let go of the painting and turned to Victoria.

“The longer things go unspoken, the harder it is to fix them, right?”

Amen, Victoria thought, but didn’t say it. She only nodded.

“That’s all.” Kate continued. “I collect the rent and wire it to Mr Robins once a moth. He owns the house but lives in France, so he doesn’t bother us much.”

“Okay, so when can I move in?”

“Whenever you want. You can come tomorrow if you like.”

“But tomorrow’s Christmas Eve?”

“Well, yes, but I will be here all Christmas.” 

Kate painted for a short time until she lowered her brush and looked back to Victoria. 

“Actually I would be happy if you came tomorrow, provided you aren’t busy of course.”

“I will probably need to pack my stuff tomorrow, but I can be here with the first batch of things come Christmas Day?”

“That’s splendid. Let’s have a proper Christmas luncheon and dinner then. And bring some friends if you like. We have both enough food and room.”

Victoria stayed and chit-chatted over a cup of tea with both Kate and Rachel until Rachel had to go to her work at a pub that lay just a street away from the Chalk Farm tube station, so when she left, Victoria made her company. The sky was a deep blue when they left Spinner’s road 51 with breaths that turned white in the cold, and it was a star spangled black when Victoria arrived home to Swankton. Her room, well the whole house actually, felt strange, like she had already moved on from there. But Victoria felt happy and full of life, and oh so tired. What a bloody weekend this had been.


	9. Chapter 9

# Part 9

Victoria spent the whole next day, Christmas Eve, organising and packing her stuff. She discovered she had a lot of meaningless shit, but also some things that she really appreciated. She would be moving by cab, and had already booked one to pick her and her stuff up tomorrow by ten. She would only take the most important things now and get the rest of her stuff sometime in twixmas.

She ate alone and packed alone and went to sleep alone, but she had no time to feel alone. When she woke up, it was Christmas Day.

-

The taxi arrived a ten sharp, and Victoria stood already by the big door at Swankton, almost jumping upp and down in anxious anticipation. A couple of suitcases and boxes at her feet ready to be loaded into the spacious car. Thirty minutes later she was at Spinner’s road.

Kate welcomed her with a ‘Merry Christmas’ and a hug, and helped her carry up her stuff to her new room. A fire crackled merrily in the cocklestove and Victoria could feel the comfy heat it radiated. She sat down on the bed and looked at the boxes and bags that surrounded her. 

Kate stood leaning in the doorway with a smile. 

“Do you want help unpacking?”

“No, I’ll just make the bed and be done for now.”

Kate nodded.

“Alrighty, I’m in the kitchen if you need something.”

“Okay, I’ll be down in a minute.”

Kate turned in the door.

“No stress, I’ll manage.”

When Kate had left, Victoria took a short breather. Then she opened a box and fetched some bed linen and started to do the bed. When she was done the room felt a lot more like hers. She contemplated for a while if she should have her head or her feet towards the stove, and went with her feet. She lifted up her guitar from one the boxes and started to pluck the melody to House of Rising Sun, or House of Swankton Butte as Chloe had named it. She sang the verses and was truly grateful that she wasn’t going back to spend her life in Swankton Butte, as the lyrics said. She threw the guitar on the bed with a frustrated hiss. 

Everything seemed to fall into place for her now, like magic, except for one thing; Chloe.

What if she were out wandering the streets of London om Christmas Day? What if she doesn’t have enough food to eat? Enough clothes against the cold? What if someone hurt her? What if something… terrible had happened to her, and that’s why Victoria hadn't been able to find her? She felt that little dark hard knot that always lived in her tummy bloom, and it was sheer willpower that hindered her from throwing on her coat and boots and rush out in the Christmas winter wonderland. She knew it would be futile. Instead she went down into the kitchen, where Kate was preparing food for lunch and dinner. It smelled wonderful, but Victoria couldn’t appreciate it fully right now.

“Here I am,” She said and put up a fake smile, “Tell me what to do, but be warned; I suck at cooking.”

“Oh, no problem”, Kate said and wiped her brow with a checkered kitchen towel, ”But I misjudged how much butter there is in all these receipts. Could you be a darling and go down to the shop and buy another package? A large Lurpak would do it.” 

“Sure, is the nearest shop down by the tube?”

“That’s correct, and if you could get a wriggle on it would be grand.” 

“Sure, I’m on it.”

-

On her way to the store, Victoria passed the small pub Four Horseshoes where Rachel worked, but a note on the heavy black wooden door said it was closed today. She wondered how Rachel was celebrating Christmas tonight. The grocery store lay just a short walk from here and luckily it was still open for two more hours. She grabbed the largest package of butter she could find from the fridge and walked up to the cashier. The boy behind the desk looked half her age and his face where full of angry red spots. 

“Anything else?” He asked after punching in the price in the cash register.

“Yeah… A pack of Viceroys too, please” Victoria said as she opened her purse to fetch a pound note. “And merry…”

She stared at the flyer from the Salvation Army. She checked the clock on the wall behind the cashier. The Christmas lunch for people in need would begin in less than half an hour.

“Excuse me,” She said and held up the flyer to the boy who just returned with her pack of cigarettes. ”Do you know this address?”

-

The Christmas lunch long since started when Victoria finally arrived at her destination. The location didn’t look much on the outside, just a handwritten sign and two outdoor torches burning in the snow outside a large nondescript building, but the inside was teeming. At least six long tables stretched all the way from wall to wall, full with people from all walks of life, old people in their best bibs and tuckers that had been fashionable thirty years ago to young people in ordinary clothes, and whole families with small kids running around. Most people actually looked fairly normal.

A man who’s once well combed hair stood out in tufts around his head approached her where she stood in the doorway.

“Welcome, let’s find you a seat, shall we? We are pretty crowded here, but where there’s a will, there’s a way, right?”

Victoria, who had been looking around in the large room, turned back to him.

“Actually I don’t need somewhere to sit, or eat, I am just looking for someone.”

“Oh, I see, well, have a looksie and ask any of us if you want help.” He pointed at his blue and red ribbon he wore over his chest. Victoria nodded.

“Thank you.”

Victoria tried to make way through the mass of people, ignoring their looks as she passed, but she didn’t see a trace of Chloe anywhere. Soon he felt hot and flustered in her winter coat and hat in the hot room, and she swallowed down a curse of despair. Okay, this was another dud then. And now she would be late back to Kate with the butter. Like, _hours_ late. What a great first impression she had made. With a head low in disappointment Victoria started to make way through the merry sea of people towards the exit. Someone tugged at her coat and she spun around. An old man with cracked glasses shrank back from her stare. He didn’t say anything, but gave her an uncertain smile.

Victoria stared back in surprise.

“Mister Toady!”

The old man nodded with a happy grin.

“Hello lady! If you are looking for your friend, I think I saw her! She's here!”

Victoria shook her head.

“No, I’ve looked, and I don’t think she is.”

“Yes, yes, she is! Over there!”

The old man pointed to the the rear end of the hall. Victoria squinted the best she could but didn’t see anyone even resembling Chloe.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive! Come on, come on, let me show you.”

Mister Toady rose on unsteady legs and with blinding speed he started to limp away between the tables. Victoria followed the best she could, bumping into more than one Christmas celebrator on the way. After lots of ’sorry’s’ and excuse me’s’ Victoria came to where Mister Toady had stopped. He pointed to a woman a few paces away sitting with her back agains them, and his face shone with pride. The woman was pretty tall and pretty thin, and pretty blonde for sure. Bleached blonde. But she was probably in her forties, and she was not Chloe. The woman looked up from her rice pudding and gave them a stare full of questions and confusion. Victoria stared back, not sure what to say, and Mister Toady scratched his long oily hair.

“Not the reunion I had imagined,” he muttered. 

“I’m sorry, Mister Toady, but–”

Two tables down, a blonde head popped up from below the table. She had one toddler in her arms and what looked like an older sibling hanging on her back, whooping and laughing. She gave the small child to what must be her mom to her side and put the older girl on her own knee and fed her a pice of ham sandwich from her plate. Victoria stared like she couldn’t believe her eyes. 

At the same time, the blonde girl must’ve felt that she was stared at, because she looked up and loked right at Victoria, her mouth falling open in surprise. They stared at each other over the bustling tables for what felt like an eternity. Finally Victoria lifted her hand and made a small gesture in greeting. Chloe rose, planting the little girl firmly on the chair while gesturing to Victoria towards the hall. 

-

They hasted towards the exit on their respective way between the tables, but the closer they get to each other, the slower they moved. Victoria hadn’t thought more ahead than this, to find Chloe. What would happen now? She knew what she wanted herself, but what about Chloe? What did he want?

“You’ve cut your hair!” Chloe said when they finally reached each other near the doors. Now they stood looking at each other, still on an arms length from each other. Victoria combed her hand through her short locks. 

“Well, yeah, about that...”

Chloe reach out and touched the side go her hed, and suddenly everything felt alright again. 

“It suits you.” Chloe said, “Puts your beautiful face in center instead of all that hairspray and fake curls.”

“Uh, thanks. Yeah, I like it, actually.”

Victoria looked back to the kids that Chloe had played with. 

“So, are there homeless families too?”

“Well, not everyone here is homeless, some are just poor. You know, Thatchers politics left many people in a bad state.”

Victoria didn’t know that. She wasn’t much into politics. At least not other countries politics. Instead she looked back at the little family. The baby was sleeping in his mother’s arms, and the older girl where fussing about, seeming restless.

“The kids, they loved you.” She said, “Me, I hate children.”

Chloe looked surprised.

“You do?”

Victoria shrugged. 

“Not hate, really, but I never know what to do with them. They are like mysteries that I can’t solve, and whenever I try they run away screaming. Maybe it’s the kids that hate _me_ and not the other way around.”

Chloe nodded in thought.

“Where I grew up there were a lot of children of all ages around on our street, so I guess I had no choice but to learn how to take care of children. Our closest neighbours were an indian family with three girls, I hanged out there all the time by the way, and to the other side a family with four kids. I was an only child, but was never short on playmates.”

“Sounds great”

Chloe smiled.

“It was.”

Victoria wanted to ask what had happened back then, that made her end up where she was now, but she didn’t. And Chloe didn’t tell.

“I don’t want to steal you from the kids, but, I want to take you somewhere.”

Chloe gave her a look of surprise.

“They will manage. Where are we going?”

“It’s kind of a surprise,” Victoria said and grabbed Chloe by the elbow. “Come on.”

Contrary to what she had hoped, Chloe looked more worried than exited. But she followed. 

* * *

Kate didn’t look very pleased when Victoria and Chloe entered the little hall. 

“So there you are!” 

Victoria handed over the plastic bag from the shop to Kate.

“Here’s the butter. It was the largest pack they had.”

“Thanks…” Kate said, then she squinted at her, two blooms of red on her cheeks. “You were away for over two hours! What happened?”

“I’m sorry, Kate, I really am. It was important.”

“It better have to be. I was worried senseless!”

“Well. This is Chloe. The… important one.”

“Oh I se,” Kate said and turned to Chloe. There were no trace of anger in either her voice or appearance now.

“Welcome, my name is Kate,” She said and shook her hand, “I’m happy to meet you. Will you be staying for dinner?”

Chloe gave Victoria a glance, and Victoria nodded.

“She is.”

Then she saw a familiar leather jacket and long green scarf and beret hanging on a hook. A big brown bag was thrown down on the floor below.

“Is Rachel here?”

Kate sighed.

“She is, come on in.”

-

Rachel sat at the set and Christmas decorated table with her head leaned backwards and wads of paper stuck in her nose. Her left eye was bruised and almost swollen shut. Victoria let out a gasp.

“Rachel! What the hell happened to you?”

“Me and my bloke, ex bloke, got into a bit of an argument. And, it got a bit heated.”

Victoria gave Rachel a closer look. She really looked beaten up. 

“He did this to you? We must call the police.”

Rachel held up a hand.

“No coppers.”

“You’re kidding. Why?”

“Because, I was the one starting it.”

Victoria scoffed.

“That’s no reason–“.

“And he is in a considerable worse state than I, I promise you, cailín.”

Victoria stared at Rachel.

“What? How?”

“I belted his fecking arse, that’s how.”

Kate leaned in with a wet towel and mopped at Rachel’s brow and eye. She made a deep sigh. 

“She’s some kind of pugilist, apparently.”

“Not ‘some kind’,” Rachel snarled, “It’s the proud art of dornálaíocht, that’s using yer hands.” She raised her fist to them. Victoria noticed that the knuckles were red and chafed. “And speachóireacht, that’s using your feet, and occasionally knees.”

Victoria and Chloe stared at each other, then back at the battered Rachel.

“And of course I know some coraíocht, thats wrestling to you louts, and also bataireacht, but I had no stick to use on him. I gather that was lucky, because when he had reefed me over me eye I was fecking _angry_.”

Kate shook her head.

“Rachel has nowhere to stay now, so I was thinking she could have the third room, if that’s okay with you?”

“Oh,” Victoria said, feeling how where heart sank, “Well, I was thinking…”

Rachel stood up so the chair tilted backwards and crashed to the floor. She stared at Victoria with eyes that burned green fire. The bloodstained paper rolls flew out of her nostrils when she scoffed.

“Just say so, cailín, and I am out of here!”

“No, no,” Victoria said, “It was only that…”

“Yes?” Kate said with her brow in deep furrows, “Why?” 

“I was just about to ask if Chloe could have the room. She also has no place to live, and–”

“What?” Chloe said. “Are you out of your mind, Vee?” 

Victoria gave her a confused look.

“Well, no, I was hoping you would be happy?”

“Well, I’m not! So Rachel can have the bloody room!”

“What? So you can go back living on the streets? I don’t get it. Do you _want_ to be homeless?”

“No, of course not.”

“So why, then?”

“I can’t.”

Victoria was dumbfounded, and more than a little irritated now. With a sneer she put her hands to her sides.

“You can’t?”

“Vee, can’t you see?” Chloe snivelled, “I have nothing. I can’t afford to live here, or anywhere else for that matter. And knowing how close this is, yet so far, it’s breaking my heart.”

That last bit came out more like a squeal than proper words, as tears began to flow. Chloe turned on the spot and ran for the door.

Victoria rushed after.

“Wait! Chloe!” She shouted, almost stumbling on Rachel’s boots in the hall, “I’ll pay!”

Chloe threw up the door and rushed out in the night, struggling to put on her coat while running. Victoria went after her in long strides. 

“Dammit, Chloe! Stop!“

They ran. Chloe was fast, but Victoria was faster. After a short sprint she grabbed Chloe by the shoulder and forced her to a halt.

“Please stop.” Victoria huffed, “l’ll pay your rent. It’s my Christmas gift to you.”

Chloe turned and looked at her with wet cheeks.

“What?”

“I said, I’ll pay for you. For the first six moths, or however long it takes for you to be able to pay it yourself.”

“B–but why?” Chloe stuttered.

“As I said, It’s my Christmas present to you.”

“Yes, but why? It’s way too much. I don’t deserve that.”

“Because I…” Victoria began, then she changed her mind. She couldn’t go there.

“Because I _do_ think you deserve it, and you are my friend. Friends help each other, right? And if you want you can pay me back later or whatever. I don’t care.”

Victoria looked into Chloe’s bewildered and tear filled eyes. It was obvious she didn’t believe her.

“Also,” Victoria mumbled, “I need you, Chloe. As a friend. Can’t we just… need each other? As friends?”

Kate and Rachel came out on the stairs. Kate raised her voice.

“I think we got a solution, but please come in and let’s continue the discussion inside, shall we?”

Finally Chloe collapsed into Victoria’s arms.

“Is this real?” She whispered into Victoria’s neck.

“Yes,” Victoria mumbled back, “It’s real. And Merry Christmas, Chloe.”

“Come on now, you people,” Rachel shouted, “The food is getting cold and I’ve a mouth on me, even if you don’t. Beating blokes up makes me hungry.”


	10. Chapter 10

It was decided that Rachel would get the room upstairs, and Chloe would have the sitting room on the ground floor as her room. According to Kate they seldom used it anyway and what they had used it for could as well be done in the living room and dining hall. The attic was full of old stuff and after some searching, they found a bed, a table and some chairs that Chloe could use. To get it down was another matter, and Victoria had to put all her muscles to good use. Luckily Rachel, despite her small frame, was almost as strong, and together they managed to move around the furniture so the sofa and chairs and coffee table from the sitting room were moved to the dining room, while the bed and the other stuff, were moved down the two stairs from the attic. The worst thing was to get the big old piano from Chloe’s room to the dining hall, but somehow they managed to lift that in place too, all four of them together.

After Christmas, Victoria and the other girls went to Swankton and fetched the rest of her stuff. She didn’t want to, but she had to go see Mrs Moore and end the contract and give her the new adress for mail forwarding, but she couldn’t find her anywhere. She was more relieved than annoyed by that, and she wrote a message and put it in an envelope, together with the two keys to the apartment. She left the envelope at Mrs Moore’s desk in her office. 

Then it was New Years eve. They were all too exhausted to do anything special. As Rachel was working, the other three decided to make her a visit at The Horseshoes and they all weren’t home until well into the new year, all of them pretty hammered. Or ‘trousered’, as was Kate’s word for it.

The morning after everyone were sleeping late. At nine only Victoria was awake. She stood in the kitchen boiling some eggs and brewing a cup of coffee when the doorbell rang. So, the bell worked after all. But who rang on the door at this time on new year’s day? 

She went and opened it with cup in hand. And almost dropped it.

“You! What do you want?”

Alyssa stood there, looking everything but happy. She reached out her hand. It held a small box wrapped in glossy red paper and white strings. Victoria didn’t take it. Instead she stared at Alyssa, who’s face took an even deeper shade of red. Victoria put down her cup of coffee, which suddenly had an overwhelmingly bitter taste, on the phone table and crossed her arms.

“Is this some kind of joke?” 

She looked around to see if the other girls from Swankton where somewhere around, but saw no-one. She sighed.

“Alright, you may speak, Alyssa. What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I wanted to wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year.” Alyssa mumbled quickly, “We never got around doing it before I left for home.” 

There were a bit of an uncomfortable silence when Victoria just stare at her. Alyssa began fidgeting with the present in her hands.

“I also wanted to say that I’m really sorry. About…. everything.”

Victoria scoffed, and Alyssa continued, maybe to have something to say.

“Me and Marc broke up the other day, by the way. I just couldn’t stand it any more, you know. He wanted to control every part of my life. It was he who forbade me to talk to you in class, and everything. It just felt wrong. And I never wanted to cut your hair, or throw away your food, or destroy your videos. It was just horrible.”

“Yeah? So why did you, then?”

Alyssa looked away, and when she looked back, her eyes were full of tears.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t say no to the others. I guess I am just a bad person.”

Victoria nodded. She sure knew all about being a bad person.

“We all have our moments,” She said after some thinking.

“You know what? I forgive you, and I appreciate you coming here and asking to my face. That’s guts, Aly.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

Alyssa gave her a small smile through the tears.

“I know the others feel ashamed about what we did too. I think you can come back. You don’t have to live out here.”

“Well, I like it here, and I’m not coming back.”

“But we’ll see each other at uni?”

“I don’t thinks so. I haven’t decided what to do yet, but I don’t think I’ll continue with economics. Everything is up in the air right now.”

“I see,” Alyssa said, looking a bo downcast. “But you know where I live, if you want to talk or anything.”

Victoria nodded.

“And you know where I live.”

Then she gave Alyssa a look.

“How _did_ you know where I lived by the way? I don’t remember telling anyone.” 

“I asked Mr Nohrsson.”

“Mr Nohrson! Oh, I get it. But why not Mrs Moore?”

“I suppose you haven’t heard? Mrs Moore is in the hospital. She had some kind of seizure or heart attack or something. On Christmas Eve of all days. And she isn’t even that old.”

“A heart attack? Really?” 

“Truth. Everyone talks about it. Most thinks it was your snubbing of her that made her so upset. She went around all grey in her face after that, and extra angry, if you can believe it.”

Alyssa smiled.

“Oh, you really put her in place, it was epic. We all admired you for how you did it. Vickie the ice queen.”

“No it wasn’t epic, it was fucking awful. And if you’re a decent person you think so too.”

Alyssa looked really surprised. 

“Yes, I do, but…”

“Do you happen to know what hospital she’s at?”

“St. Campions in Newham. Mr Nohrsson told us, but no-one is going all the way there. Not for that mean hag.”

Victoria grabbed her coat from its hanger and stepped into her boots.

“I am.”

* * *

It took a while to find the way to St. Campions in Newham in the eastern part of London. The hospital was a large plain yellow and brown brick building, built somewhere in the sixties, Victoria guessed. It looked like it was designed to look as boring, bland and cheap as possible. The woman at the desk told her which room Mrs Moore lay in, and said it was okay to visit her now. 

Just outside her room stood a trolley with trays. Each tray had a cup of tea and a muffin on it, and a little name tag with a name and number on it. In the middle of the trolley a handwritten paper sat. It said ‘St. Campions wishes you a happy new year’ In large swirling letters. Victoria found what must be Mrs Moores tray and grabbed it. Mrs Beth Moore. Maybe she was called Betty by her friends? 

“Excuse me, miss, what are you doing?”

A nurse came walking up behind her, giving her a suspicious look.

“Um, hello there, is this to Mrs Moore in number thirty-seven?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then maybe I can take it to her?”

Something dawned on the nurse.

“Oh, you are a relative?”

Victoria took on her deadpan face.

“Mh-hm.”

The nurse smiled and squeezed her arm.

“It’s so nice of you to come. No-one has visited her for the whole time, and she really needs some cheering up, poor thing.”

The nurse glanced at the neck of small bottle of V.S.O.P. Cognac that stuck up from Victoria’s bag. 

“Shall I fetch a couple of glasses? One or two sips will only do her good, I suppose.”

“Yes, please, that would be very kind.”

The nurse hasted away. Victoria was just about to turn the handle to the door when she saw a beautiful bouquet of dark red roses on a table in the corridor a couple of paces away. She walked up to it and took a closer look. The petals looked like dark fleshy folds and smelled wonderful. Where did they get roses like this in the middle of winter? Victoria picked up the bouquet in its vase and put it on the tray, then she placed the box of chocolates and the half-bottle of Cognac beside it. Now she was ready to meet Mrs Moore.

The room was small and there were eight beds in here, all crammed together and full with people of various ages and sizes. Every bed had a small table and a chair bedside them, and Mrs Moore lay with her eyes closed under the covers of the first bed to the left. When asleep or resting she didn’t look mean or angry at all, just tired. When Victoria closed the door behind her Mrs Moore opened her eyes, and jerked so the whole bed rattled. She stared at Victoria with her watery grey eyes wide as if she had seen a ghost. If Mrs Moore could’ve crawled backwards through the wall, she would’ve. 

Victoria nodded in greeting, but when Mrs Moore just continued to stare in horror, she groaned inside. This would probably get pretty awkward if she didn’t play her cards right from the start. She better say something nice now.

“Well, I’ve not come to smother you with your pillow, or poison you, if that’s what you think.” 

That came out wrong. Victoria gestured to the plain carver chair by the bed. 

“Can I sit?”

“Go away!” Mrs Moore sputtered with a face that had taken on a grey shade, “I… I don’t need your pity!” 

Victoria put the tray on the small table and sat down. This was going smooth. Really smooth.

Mrs Moore looked around with panic in her eyes after a saviour. There were none.

“Help,” She wheezed, “Help!”

Victoria rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, shut up and listen, will you?”

Mrs Moore stared at her in the same way as before but she did shut her mouth. 

“Do you think I’ve come all the way here just to mock you again?” She sneered. Then she sighed. On her way to the hospital Victoria had thought deep and hard on what to say to Mrs Moore. So far she hadn’t uttered even one word of that.

“Alright, let’s begin again,” Victoria said and cleared her throat. “I know I can be a handful. I mean, we are much alike, you and I, right?”

Mrs Moore didn't answer, but she looked at Victoria like she was out of her mind. 

“I mean,” Victoria trudged on, “We don't like being treaded on, and sometimes we say and do things that maybe are a bit... extreme?”

Mrs more scoffed silently. Victoria shrugged. 

“Okay, at least I do. I blame it on my inadequate upbringing, but I’m trying to be better. It’s hard, but I'm trying. I just want…”

Mrs Moore still didn't say anything. This was a lot harder than Victoria had imagined. She looked down at her clutched hands to get some strength. 

“I wanted to... I wanted to…”

She looked up at Mrs Moore again, but her scrunched brow and glowering eyes didn’t help.

The door behind Victoria burst open, and the nurse she had talked to earlier entered. She walked straight up to them. 

“Having a nice chat, I hope?” The nurse said in a cheerful voice and put down two small glasses, or rather, plastic dosage cups, on the table. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything better, but they’ll do in a pinch I’m sure.”

She gave them both a cute wink.

“Have a good time now, ladies.”

She went out in the corridor again but was soon back with the trolley and started to hand out trays with tea and muffins to the other inhabitants of the ward. Victoria reached for the tubby bottle and began to uncork it.

“Well, we can’t just let it stand there, can we?” 

Mrs Moore looked at the bottle, her eyebrows rose on her forehead like she saw it for the first time, then back to Victoria, then back to the bottle again. Finally, she nodded.

“I can have use of something strengthening, yes,” She mumbled. 

Victoria filled the two cups to the rim. Exactly 30 millilitres of the finest Cognac. She took a cup and held it out. Mrs Moore lifted her cup in response and they touched, without any spill. Victoria nodded.

“Doctor’s order, huh.”

They both emptied their cups in one go, and Victoria felt how her stomach glowed in warmth by the liquor. This was not how you usually drank this kind of spirits, but this was an unusual situation. Victoria filled up the tiny cups again. Mrs Moore didn’t protest. They drank again, but this time they only sipped the amber liquid. When they had finished the contents of their cups again under silence, Victoria filled them up for a third time, the she put a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, I forgot, we should have this too!”

Victoria gave Mrs Moore the small box of exclusive dark chocolate pralines. “They go very well together with the booze.”

She waited while Mrs Moore took a praline and put in her mouth. The woman looked markedly more energetic now, with shining eyes and even a bit of color on her cheeks. Doctor’s orders indeed. Victoria guessed that she also was bit flustered herself, but that was okay.

“So,” Victoria said, ”To get back to what I wanted to say….” She gave out a long breath before continuing. “I know I can be a bit of an ass. Or a whole lot of ass, actually. And I wish that I could take it all back, what I did. To have it undone, totally. I know that's just wishful thinking, but…”

Victoria looked up in Mrs Moore’s eyes, and she didn’t have to play earnest this time.

“Can you forgive me?”

Mrs Moore gazed at her from her sickbed. Not in anger, nor contempt. Just with a thoughtful face. 

“You know I have worked at Swankton a long time.” She said finally, “More years than you’ve lived I wager. And there has been some real trouble now and then, for sure. Girls your age are such an ordeal to manage. You think you know everything about everything, and I have bandied words with more than one young lady. And even the tiniest problem is big drama, when in truth, you know nothing about real drama. And during all this time I have never been so humiliated as I was by you.”

Victoria looked down. She felt how shame burned on her cheeks.

“But,” Mrs Moore continued, “Not once have anyone come back to apologise before. Not on their own accord, at least. Not once.”

Victoria glanced up, and saw the hint of a teeny-weeny smile on Mrs Moore’s face. 

“So,” Mrs Moore said, “If you say you want to change for the better, I believe you. I actually do. And you are right, we are a bit alike, you and I, even if you were born with a silver spoon in you mouth and I most definitely was not. Sometimes we’re not thinking before we talk. Oh, yes, I was a real hot head at your age, but I also know it’s possible to change.”

“Thanks,” Whispered Victoria.

Mrs Moore nodded, and she actually smiled a little.

“Maybe you can give me my tea and muffin now?”

“Uh, sure.”

Victoria put the tray on Mrs Moore’s knee. When she saw the roses she smiled. 

“Roses! I love roses.” 

Then she cocked an eyebrow to Victoria.

“Are these from the corridor outside? Did you steal them?”

Victoria gave her a skewed smile.

“Well, borrowed. They are doing more good in here aren’t they? I can put them back if you want.” 

“No, put them back when you leave instead.”

Mrs Moore stuck her large nose in the bouquet and closed her eyes.

“I have always loved roses. They remind me of my husband. This sort is called Mister Lincoln, did you know? I could smell their fragrance all the way from out there. It’s one of my favourites.”

“So, your husband…?”

“Yes, he is dead.”

“Oh, Im sorry to hear that.”

“Well, he died a long time ago, in the war.”

“What war? You mean the Second World War?”

“Yes, we were newly married. He died on D-day. Right there on the beach. He was one of the first to land.” Mrs Moore shook her head slowly. “Died for his king and country and everything. He got a really honourable funeral and everything. Pomp and circumstance and the lot.”

She looked up at Victoria from her bed. Somehow Victoria could see the young girl, desperate with sorrow, in the age-old sadness of Mrs Moore’s face.

“He was just twenty-one. No-one should have to die at twenty-one. Sometimes I think I died on that day too.”

Victoria looked away and reached for the bottle again.

“And you didn’t, um, remarry?”

Mrs Moore was silent for a while, before answering.

“No, I never remarried.”

Now she sounded like her old self again, which Victoria was thankful for. Victoria tilted the bottle over the two small plastic cups and filled them up again. Mrs Moore gave her a look.

“Do you really think we should have more?”

“Of course.” Victoria said, “Let’s celebrate the new year and the new decade, don’t you think? Let’s toast for a better future. For change.”

Mrs Moore nodded and held up her cup, and they toasted again.

“For a better future.”

When they had drank again, Mrs Moore put down her half full cup and looked up in Victoria’s face.

“You know, I should apologise to you too.”

Victoria’s eyebrows shot up on her forehead.

“To me? Why?”

“I said some mean thing about you and that girl who visited you that night. It must be hard to be of your sort. I know it’s not by choice.”

Victoria scrunched her brow.

“Uh, wait a minute….”

Mrs Moore didn’t listen.

“I had a friend once. We both worked in the industry when she confessed to me. It was during the war, you see, and many women and girls had to do men’s work. She… Well, it was a tragic story that didn’t end well.” Mrs Moore sighed. “But it was another time then. It was much harder being a woman and being, you know, a pervert.”

“Actually, I think it’s called lesbian, or gay.”

Ah, yes, or ‘tribade’. That was the word I think she used for herself, but I had no idea what that meant back then. If it had been now I wouldn’t have been so harsh on her, even if I still can’t understand it.”

Mrs Moore fell silent, lost in her memories. Victoria felt it was time to change the subject. 

“I have moved out from Swankton by the way. So I am off your back now, permanently.”

That woke Mrs Moore from her trance. She looked up at Victoria, but it was hard to decide if she was happy about that or not. Relieved maybe. 

“I see. I must say I think you really didn’t fit in there. You’ll be happier some other place. “

“Yes I will. I mean, I am.”

“Good.” Mrs Moore said and nodded weakly. Then she leaned backwards in her bed. 

“I think I would like to rest a bit now.”

“Of course.”

Mrs Moore took Victoria’s hand and squeezed it.

“I am very happy you came and visited me, Victoria. And thank you for the gifts, and everything.”

“Sure thing. And get well soon.”

Victoria stood up, and Mrs Moore let go of her hand. Her head spun when she rose. There wasn’t much left in the bottle of Cognac, and Victoria felt it. When she looked back at Mrs Moore, she was snoring, sound asleep. Victoria adjusted the blanket over Mrs Moore’s thin body, grabbed the vase with roses, and left.

* * *

When Victoria came back to Spinner’s road 51, the house was still silent. Was it possible that the others were all still asleep? It was almost lunch time after all. The big black bakelite telephone in the hall stared her in the face, as it had done every time she had gone up or down the stairs to her room for the last couple of days. Well, she was on a roll now, and the chicken in her had died up there on the tower, hadn’t it? 

Victoria went up to her room and fetched the envelope with her unused airline tickets and a brochure over the Fairmont hotel in Nairobi where her family were staying. Where she also would’ve been now if things had been different. She sat down by the phone and dialed in the long number. She immediately got to the front desk at the hotel, and with a pounding heart she asked the man to connect her to the seahorse suite, the one she would’ve shared with her sister if she had gone.

After a couple of heart wringing moments someone lifted the phone on the other end.

“Hi, Liz, this is Victoria…. Uh, happy new year. How is Kenya? … Why I’m calling? … I just wanted to say that you shouldn't have borrowed my shoes without asking… No, don’t hang up! Please hear me out… I just wanted to say that though you shouldn’t have, I was unreasonable and stupid and I miss you and I love you and I never want us to be like this again… Hello?…. Do you understand?…. I ‘m very sorry for acting like a jerk and I’ll do my best to be less of a jerk now…. Hello?… Hello? Lizzie?… Are you crying?… Damn you, sis, now you’re making me cry too…. Yes, silly, I know how to cry…. Yes, I’ve cried before... Once….No, I’m not telling you….” 

...

When they hung up Victoria sat in the chair and just let the tears flow uncontrolled down her face. After one year of tension released in a minute, there wasn’t much else she could do. The outer door swung open and Chloe came in. She stomped the snow off her shoes and reached to hang up her coat while she glanced at Victoria. 

“You’re up! We were out of clotted cream, so I went out and… oh, hey, what’s the matter?” 

Chloe bowed down and gave her a tight hug, then she looked at her with a furrowed brow.

“Are you drunk?”

Victoria snivelled.

“Maybe a little?”

“I see. Rough start of the new year?” 

Victoria shook her head, still with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“No, it’s a good start. Excellent, even.” 

Chloe pursed her lips.

“Intriguing, want to talk about it?”

“Uh, okay,” Victoria sniffled, “Yeah, I want that actually.”

“Come on then, let's have a cup of tea and I'll make you a scone. A real British one.”

Chloe let go of her and turned towards the kitchen, but Victoria stayed on the chair, staring out in the air. Folding her arms, Chloe leaned against the stair and tilted her head. The moments ticked by, and finally she gave off a little laugh while shaking her head.

“A penny for your thoughts, miss.”

“I think…” Victoria began and looked back at Chloe, wiping the tears from her eyes, but smiling. “I think this decade is going to be awesome.”

  
  
  
  


THE END

(But the story continues in Five Girls In A Flat, click the link "Next Work" below to continue reading.)


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